






h * 


■r-' 

'i 





Go[yright}j?_ _x 

COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 





\l^ a 








ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE 


■ ''r.-'-"-’ ■■ "'' ^‘'' ' -■ 




V • TO* i ' vvtjII 

..^V .■- ;tfC‘ ,. . ■; 

; . .. / ■ • ■ . /•"•'“■■"* ■ 'v»'y 

. * . •► w 


'-re 


V^vrv ir';.pu.’j,'-’ ((‘•>. - : . '•'»*•• \' , 

•i' iU^ • ; / • . ’ 

SV- ' . • . 




' i ?* > 


K 


v.t- 


/ T 





• s ,. 

’^^ . 




^-V'viL**. ^.v.- ■ '^r* a 

-2' ■'• 

^S‘’V 'TITr 




W-.y,. 

' < . ' v*^ ‘S 

>7i 

. . * . 1 u 


, I * 

.•(t 




, ^ tT ©♦’J 




?Sv.' 


\ 


« 

0; 


,4 

V 







\- '’^' '•* 


, . '-^'' '*■ 

V. 


f • : 


%i s4 


1 * 

. » r 

4 

r’ 


- r ' 

!’■ 

IV.-i.j/'i-* . ' r • 

9 

•• • ^ 

A . • 


1 » t* ‘ 

v . ■ ' 

. » 

4 •% A« W ^ ^ * * * 

'•*.v .. »*'. 

,...»■ . . 

A ^ \ 

V . * . '• • 

rf«-- • f 

. ' • * 
• 

« •« 

b> y •^■. 4'4 

) > 



- «. / 


* s 

i 




\ 

t 

f * 


'%■• il 

'!■»•■' t' Vr >,'S 






. > 7 '. > - ' ' . 

,"•' ,._.V..- -r-/- • , 

.r^'.'^-' ; '4r \’. . • 





w 



■ I A 

• '‘ ‘T? ;\ 

. -v ■ ■ "> , 


V. V^ M%_( 


. ■:'3' : 


* '* 

>' 7'- 

'' •r * 



^ fK " , '-r !*' -/» 

*''V'-: ‘ J - 

. .-S ...;f.,- 


I'.:. 


- 9 • 4 


■■-I) 


- ^ 


f 1 


• r. * 


/ ■ 




«« 




•I 


‘.. <* 

9 

t 







‘ .* .•■ ;f 


). *. 


*’, ■*. ‘ 
• ' 1 .'i ■ 


'. ' •» -■ 
I 1 ‘ ■ 




v ' 

I 


-.4. 


* . '* 


' '-l-'^‘.''v* / 
1 •*,, . « . • 
vT' • f 













# / t . 





■ ■* '_ ' 








ISAAC DRAQUE 

THE 

BUCKEYE 


By 


THOnAS MATHEW 
u 



CHICAGO — NEW YORK 

W. B. CONKEY COMPANY 



3497 


Entered according to act of Congress, In the year 1898, 
BY 

MARY F. BYRNES, 


in the office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. 


Isaac Draque, 

THE 

Buckeye. 


CHAPTER I. 

Early in the present century, the site and country 
surrounding a now flourishing city in the state of Ohio 
were covered with forest trees. Many were of giant 
proportion, and all, as if with friendly understanding, 
with interlocked and outspread branches prevented 
the sun’s rays from penetrating to their roots, which, 
in summer, flourished best in cool, moist ground, and 
which also afforded them protection from the frosts of 
winter. 

In the spring time, then as now, the forest wore the 
same soft green, the certain color of infancy in leaves 
and plants, which in the summer deepened into the 
dark, strong hue that betokens strength and prime. 
Autumn presented the same beautiful, gorgeous color- 
ing, one tree differing so wonderfully from another, 
that in the spring were so nearly alike. Winter robed 
all with the same brown garment. The sap returned 
into the bosom of the earth. The trees are stripped 
of their leaves. The happy song birds have flown. 
The gentle winds and refreshing showers are gone, 
and no trace of what was is seen. May we be allowed 
to think how closely they resemble human lives that 
in infancy are so nearly the same ; that age contrasts 
so distinctly, and as death makes all that is human 
again appear alike. 

S 


6 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


The beautiful snow flakes gracefully floated and 
fell, rested upon the bare, brown branches, and the 
burden of crystal whiteness inelined them to the 
earth with just a perceptible eurve, while the hoar 
frost worked a hundred thousand fantastie designs in 
bars, and eolumns, and pyramids, and eones. There 
was the massive Corinthian pillar and the slender 
Gothie spire. 

Along the banks of streams where the water was 
not still, were patterns as exquisite and delicate as 
were ever fashioned in laee ; until beholding them in 
combination with the starry firmament forever mov- 
ing on, and all the wonders nature is continually 
placing before us, one is led to question: Did man 
ever design or invent anything, but rather did he 
not at some time or other diseover the design in a pie- 
ture the Almighty plaeed before him. 

Invention is but the putting together of several de- 
signs in order to make a perfect whole, such as none 
but the inventor before produeed, whieh may imply. 

The inventor goes abroad in this world of wonders 
a more eareful observer in certain directions than an- 
other; understanding eertain laws, he eulls from the 
universal storehouse the designs best suited to his 
ideas and wants. 

Often, before the story of Jesus’ love was earned to 
the spot, the blaek storm cloud hung low over the 
great forest. The lightning spread its sheet-like 
brightness over a goodly portion of the immediate 
sky, or darted its fiery tongues in many direetions 
from a common center ; while peal after peal of thun- 
der reverberated through its dark aisles. 

The rain fell in gentle, soothing showers, or eame 
with a whirlwind that uprooted trees and sent the 
swollen rivers madly plunging on. The water in 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


7 


places swept huge bowlders and in others sped over 
beds of sand; now kept in by perpendicular banks, and 
again spreading without restraint. With restored 
calm, the sky was flecked with the white fleecy cloud, 
or the stratus piled tier after tier, that the sinking 
sun emblazoned with gold as he noiselessly passed 
out of sight, and left the wilds in more than mid- 
night darkness, till the hours of gloom that succeed 
are again blotted out by the rising glow. 

High above this spot of wild grandeur and design 
shone the same north star that guided the mariner 
as he crossed the heretofore pathless ocean, to open 
the gates of the New World to the overcrowded popu- 
lation of the Old. Here, in a land teeming with ver- 
dure, there had never been a dream of pasture fields 
or lowing kine; of golden heads of wheat, or beautiful 
undulating meadows ; of trim cottage gardens, or mag- 
nificent city homes, nor any one who had heretofore 
deemed such things probable. 

The fleet-footed deer were here in abundance, and 
the portly bear, while not scorning flesh when it could 
be conveniently procured, had fattened on the nuts 
that fell in showers from the many nut-bearing trees ; 
while the lank-sided, carnivorous wolf, with a relish 
wholly for flesh, greedily sniffed the air that brought 
a scent from the direction in which it could be found. 
And here, in a wild state, lording over all as in prim- 
itive times, was man. He was of a race capable of 
great endurance, and fearless to the utmost degree, 
and looked with astonishment, not unmixed with sus- 
picion, upon the creatures, so like himself, who came 
from other parts, evidently to share or take possession 
of the sheltering forests his people had so long been 
accustomed to look upon as their own. 

Concerning the great Northwestern Territory of 


s 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


which our new Buckeye state was a part, aside from 
its vastness, its forests, great lakes, and wild inhabi- 
tants, but little was known. While it was a part of 
the America that had been discovered more than three 
hundred years before, and struggled so hard for in- 
dependence with the country that would fain be a 
mother to the whole world, in her own way, yet it 
was in its very infancy. 

There were no facts before the settlers such as his- 
tory points out. All that had happened since the 
creation was as completely a blank as is the land or 
inhabitants around the North Pole. One might peer 
into the forests and people them with figures and 
scenes, according to his own imagination. He might 
associate the ancestors of the red man with a time 
when the forests were not there, and not a voice of 
a living thing or an echo of the past would come to 
contradict his fancy. Did the flowers that sprung up 
everywhere bloom from time immemorial for the race 
about to depart forever? Who can tell? 

Although parts of the southern portion of the state 
had been settled earlier, the dense forests toward the 
center and north were untouched ; in them was never 
heard the sound of the woodman’s ax until our little 
band took possession. The fathers of those about to 
locate in this interesting spot had crossed the ocean, 
coming from different parts of the Old World, leaving 
no baronial castles behind them. The forest before 
their children, how unlike the beaten turf those fathers 
left ; with its ages of history hanging over it ; with its 
thousand tales of woe ; its strife and persecution ; the 
bitter struggle for life; its exiles and death from 
famine. 

They knew it was not without regret their fathers 
left their homes. Alone! was the feeling that took 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


9 


possession of them as they cut off from land and gave 
themselves to the mercy of the wide ocean. Each had 
gladly bid farewell to the land of his fathers, which 
was not even a refuge to him, much less a home ; but 
with filial affection all hearts turned to their fathers’ 
graves. So much they loved was buried beneath the 
Old World sod. Like them, the savage, forced to find 
other shelter, loved his fathers’ graves. 

That sentiment, or that something in the heart of 
the wild man so akin to that in the heart of his civil- 
ized brother, and that is possessed by no mere animal, 
which impelled him to cross the forest, to revisit the 
mound where the bones and dust of his tribe were 
laid, must certainly command our admiration. In his 
savage breast there was no desire to plunder. He 
reverently laid the dead away with his bow and arrow, 
and all he valued, beside him, and looked beyond to 
the Happy Hunting Grounds, where he believed the 
spirits of those entombed had flown, and where the 
wherewith to satisfy all that remained unsatisfied in 
this life would be at his command. 

Little do we know what inspiration he may have 
there received, or how the Great Spirit may have 
spoken to his soul of those vast hunting grounds in 
the Beyond. He had no religion; he did not know 
Jesus, but something certainly said to him: You are 
destined to live beyond the grave. 

The aborigines did not willingly vacate their forest 
home in favor of the white man, but tried at various 
times to reinstate themselves, which gave the border 
settler much annoyance. But before our little band 
stepped in Mad Anthony had settled for the time all 
disputes in a very forcible way, and those on the bor- 
der of the territory, still the home of the red man, 
had at present little to fear. Tecumseh, failing, to 


10 


ISAAC BRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


bring the people to terms, some years later left them 
undisputed possession of the soil they had bought of 
eastern speculators and that those speculators had 
bought of the government. So the wrong that was 
done the American Indian cannot be left at the door 
of our inoffensive home-hunters, who with willing 
hands went to work to make it all their own. 

The settlers who were born and bred to the plow, 
came from some place in the East to what was then 
called the West. It was in reality, as well as to them, 
the far West. They were not heirs to vast possessions 
that by chance had passed out of their hands, but 
hardy sons of toil, whose brawny frames seemed 
strengthened by the felling of the forest trees around 
them ; whose brains were developed realizing the vast 
prospects before them; and whose hearts became the 
warmer and more tender because of their privations. 

The homes of the settlers were not pretentious ; log 
cabins of one room, and as time wore on here and 
there a second built of boards, that served as a kitchen 
in summer and a shed in winter. The occupants of 
the cabins, for a great distance around, were like one 
great family. The forest fell before them with amaz- 
ing rapidity, as they willingly lent each other the 
helping hand. As the logs were cleared away, and 
stumps rooted out, bare patches ready for cultivation 
began to show themselves everywhere, and the land 
before untilled yielded abundant harvest. 

Some of the patches were soon covered with great 
sappy green bunches, that had been carefully hilled 
and hoed, and on them a most delicate little flower 
could be found, not in profusion but here and there 
just one tiny one, that but few would stop to call beau- 
tiful. The hills in a neighboring spot, carefully kept 
as well, were by nature more aspiring, and walked 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. II 

right up in full view of solicitous eyes, bowing their 
tasseled heads and displaying their silken ears with 
every motion of the wind. 

The clover attracted the honey bee, that, now poising 
over the blossom and again sipping its sweets, kept 
up a continual hum. The small boy’s delight — the 
butterfly with mealy wings — was there, hovering over 
the clover blossom long enough to make the boy feel 
sure he had him under his hat at last; which he 
oftener raised in disappointment than to find his ex- 
pected treasure beneath, but never tired, he kept chas- 
ing the gilded thing he so much coveted until the day 
was done. 

Each neighbor knew how much ground the other 
had ready and was going to “break up in the spring,’’ 
which fields were to be planted with certain crops, 
and in the fall how many bushels of wheat and oats 
the other had, and what they would be likely to sell 
for. 

Little household arrangements were discussed freely 
from neighbor to neighbor, and the feeling that they 
were isolated from the great big world bound them 
together. On a frosty morning the ringing sound 
of the woodman’s ax came from all sides and enlivened 
the scene, the sharp click having the peculiar sound 
denoting frost in the timber, in the air, and every- 
where. 

The blue smoke might be seen curling gracefully 
from the one chimney of each respective cabin ; the back 
log being enormous, the volume sent forth in smoke 
bespoke the warmth and cheer within, and before the 
respective fires were rollicking groups of children, des- 
tined to play an important part in the history just 
begun. Some were chubby and some were lean, but 
with few exceptions there was the prevailing robust 


12 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


glow of health and satisfaction. Being hungry, they 
ate corn cakes because they were good, and ate them 
in a manner that demonstrated to a certainty that 
“hunger is a good sauce.” 

The good man hustled about feeding sheep, pigs 
and cattle, often wading knee deep through snow 
banks. His return to the cabin was proclaimed by 
vigorous kicks at the threshold in an effort to disengage 
the snow-heels that had clung to his boots, while the 
children flew to the door in wild efforts to see who 
could open it first. 

The good woman fed chickens and ducks, and at 
the woodpile stopped for the load that was to replenish 
the common Are, around which all were warmed, all 
visitors entertained. The one fire before which the 
family bread was baked in the tin oven, and whose 
huge crane swung out to receive pots and kettles in 
which the family provisions were cooked, stewed and 
boiled. 

Homely, frugal, industrious, and thrifty, they fairly 
and squarely faced the world as they found it, and 
battled with the forests and elements long before civ- 
ilization brought upon the spot the many devices that 
now make homes more comfortable and toil less severe. 

The sounds that greet our ears today were unfa- 
miliar sounds to them. There was no hammer, and 
bang, and push, but a lonely quiet that appeared to 
enter into and form a part of themselves. 

On a winter evening the coming of a neighbor was 
heralded by the sound of crunching snow under his 
feet, and the growl of the lazy watch dog, comfortably 
stretched before the fire of burning logs. The people 
thought, and reasoned, and loved, much after the man- 
ner we do today, in a homelier way, probably, but 
none the less genuine. 


CHAPTER 11. 

A good man and his wife, known to all the neighbors 
as J abez and Peggy ; to the minister, the schoolmaster 
and the young folks of the place as Mr. and Mrs. Ghent, 
were seated before the fire in one of the cabins, talking 
over the past and their prospects in the future, when 
the sound of crunching snow was heard, a growl from 
the dog, and then a rap at the door. 

“Get up, Jabez, and let the neighbor in, ” said his 
wife, who was busily plying the needle in and out the 
stocking she was knitting for one of the children ; eye- 
ing alternately the stocking and the burning logs, 
seemingly thinking seriously about some unsettled 
question she was shaping in her mind, and at the same 
time watching the narrowing of the stocking that she 
might have it the correct size. 

Jabez arose as directed, opened the door and grasped, 
with a hearty shake, the hand of the caller, who stepped 
to a seat saying: 

“Well! Peggy at work and every one else resting?” 

“Yes, John,” replied Peggy, “it appears the work 
about this place is never done. They have a quilting 
over at Klomp’s tonight, and the children all went; 
you know young, folks must have their fun, and the 
helping them get ready put me back a little, so I 
thought I’d make up some tonight; however. I’ll lay 
my work aside, for Jabez often tells me if I don’t take 
a rest I’ll never get one.” Then, after counting the 
stitches and folding the stocking at the seam, she low- 
ered her glasses so she could the better look over them ; 

13 


14 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


quietly laid the stocking aside, folded her hands and 
looked at John Strand, prepared to give him all her at- 
tention. 

“Gone to the quilting, eh?” said John, “I reckon 
they’ll see my Winnie there; my old woman said she 
was thinking on it all week, and went off looking 
right smart. ’ ’ 

“There’ll be no end to the fun this winter. I hear 
there’s to ‘be another quilting at Mose Schivers, and a 
husking at Will Langons. Tobes’ young orchard is 
bearing pretty well now ; I hear they are to have a 
pearing, and Steve Mather has a span of colts he’s going 
to break in sleigh riding; my girls are thinking of go- 
ing sometimes, with Winnie’s permit,” said Peggy, 
with a knowing glance at John. 

“Yes,” said Jabez, complimenting the recent snow 
storm and hard frost. “The snow is deep enough to 
cover ruts, and hard enough to bear them all up, so 
they had better have it when they can cross the fields 
to the plank, and then hurrah! If they don’t run into 
the stage coach all’s well, a tumble in the snow drift 
wouldn’t hurt them.” 

The Buckeye state was alive to improvement, and 
now possessed a stage coach road which was planked 
and extended from the lake on the north to the river 
on the south. The young folks, whpse fathers were 
fortunate enough to have located near the road, en- 
joyed the luxury of sleigh riding to an extent the less 
fortunate youth, far removed in either direction, could 
not hope to indulge in, only upon such occasions as 
this, when the snow was, as Jabez said, “deep enough 
and hard enough to drive anywhere, ’ ’ as poor roads, 
often mere cow paths, were still the rule. 

“Jabez, you didn’t give John a chance to think of 
what I said about Steve and Winnie,” said Peggy. 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


15 


“John hasn’t forgotten anything that was said, don’t 
fear,” replied Jabez. 

“Many a worse man than Steve got a good wife,” 
said John mechanically. 

“That’s true,” put in Jabez. “You hit the right 
nail on the head as often as any one living; Steve is a 
good fellow, he worked hard for that rig, is proud of 
it and no blame to him, but if I’m not wrong he thinks 
a deal more of your Winnie. ” 

“Well, mebbe he does,” came slowly from John, 
who did not seem to enjoy the bantering. Peggy 
tried to change the subject, for to drop in on a neigh- 
bor of an evening meant a good, sociable time, with 
subjects all were heartily interested in for discussion. 
Jabez, slower than Peggy to see their old friend, did 
not altogether relish the conversation, and noticing he 
held his head in a half drooping sort of a way suddenly 
asked : 

“Are you sick, John?” 

“No, not sick,” replied John, “but have often been 
what the doctors called sick when I didn’t feel half as 
bad. When a man is sick, Jabez, he has a heap of 
medicine and kindly wishes from every one, which 
goes a long way toward bringing him about again; but 
when a man has a trouble that is not altogether plain 
to other people there’s no help but bear it. ” 

“I suppose that’s true, John, but sit near the fire; 
it’s getting very cold,” said Jabez, vigorously pelting 
the crackling logs burning in the open fireplace. 

What his mind did not understand his heart felt ; he 
knew there was some trouble that gave his old friend 
a heartache, and his own throbbed too fast in sym- 
pathy to allow him to offer consolation in words ; con- 
sequently the trying to make the room warmer, for 
John looked cold. 


l6 ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 

The few minutes’ silence that succeeded seemed a 
chance for the old clock to tick louder and faster. A 
cricket that had found comfortable quarters in the 
chimney, sang out as merrily as if it was midsummer, 
and he stowed away in a hay rick. The dog turned 
over and looked around, as if wondering what could 
have happened his master, who was always so jolly 
when a neighbor came in. Jabez felt he would not be 
doing his duty as host did he not try to cheer his visi- 
tor, and saying something to Peggy nobody under- 
stood, turned to John, saying: 

“There’s a power of good in doctor’s medicines 
sometimes, ’tis true, but in those troubles that medicine 
don’t cure you have the whole world for company. ’ ’ 

“That’s certain,’’ chimed in Peggy, “those letters 
we get from the East are not all sunshine, and they 
comfortably fixed, not having the half to contend with 
we have here. ’ ’ 

“We’ll pull through all right yet, John,’’ said Jabez 
encouragingly; “when a man is satisfied with the step 
he has taken it doesn’t take just all the comfortable 
things another man might crave to make him happy. ’ ’ 

“That’s it,’’ said Peggy; “when we make up our 
minds to make the best of things as they come along 
we’re pretty sure to rake in a little happiness, and 
then if a disappointment comes it’s not as great as it is 
with those who had an idea from the first that every- 
thing was going to move -smooth. We expected ups 
and downs when we started, and that’s what we’re 
getting, and no mistake about it, and still I can’t say 
we are not happy.’’ She looked at John, expecting 
him to agree with her exactly. John nodded his head 
in an affirmative way, but made no reply that would 
call forth either encouragement or consolation from 
the two so willing to give both. 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


17 


All were again silent, and sat watching the burning 
logs as figure after figure of quaint or horrible shapes 
presented themselves, and then disappeared. There 
was nothing to break the stillness, either within or 
from without, save the tick, tick, of the family clock. 
The cricket did not condescend to utter another sound ; 
not a wind rustled through the trees to put an end to 
the uncomfortable quiet, for the frost was busily at 
work; it loves the stillness of night; all nature under- 
stands its tastes, and hushed allows it to reign su- 
preme. The faithful dog, unable to bear it longer, 
turned once more and looked around, evidently trying 
to rouse his master to a sense of duty, until tired hold- 
ing his lazy head upright, he leisurely stretched his 
forelegs and planted his head between, facing his mas- 
ter, so he could keep a half open eye upon him. Still 
nothing brought a voice from the three seated before 
the fire. John Strand suddenly arose, bade his host 
and hostess “good-night,” and left. They listened 
silently to the erunching snow, the sound growing 
fainter and fainter until lost, when Jabez broke the 
silence, saying: 

“Peggy, the man is crazy, he took the path by the 
cow shed, which is a round about way home, and he 
can’t be going to Joe Bleekman’s, for he surely knows 
the river at that point is too deep and too rapid to be 
frozen over with a week’s freezing, hard enough 
though it was.” With a shrug he arose and looked 
out in the direction John had taken. 

“Can you see him?” questioned Peggy with eager- 
ness. 

“No,” said Jabez, “he must be in the shadow of the 
wood or turned his course completely.” 

“For the life of me, I can’t think what can be com- 
ing over him; he used to be the j oiliest man in the 
2 


8 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


country, satisfied with his own place and with every- 
thing. I noticed his hand trembled like as he made a 
second effort to get the door latch. I’ve been won- 
dering if Winnie’s going off could be troubling him,” 
said Peggy. 

“I think not,” replied Jabez; “he seems to be well 
satisfied with Steve, and why shouldn’t he. There’s 
not a better or more industrious young fellow about. 
I wouldn’t object to him for a son-in-law myself.” 

“Oh,” said Peggy laughing, “our girls are younger 
than Winnie; we’re in no hurry with them off, at least 
I’m not. ” After which remark Peggy put her spec- 
tacles upon precisely the right spot on her nose, 
turned her chair around for better light and took up 
her knitting. Peggy was a wideawake woman, who 
was never idle ; she could always work and listen, or, 
if need be, talk about what she thought of things as 
fast as Jabez could, who, while she knitted the winter 
stockings, read the Bible for her benefit as well as his 
own. They had some other books which Jabez had 
well thumbed, and that meant Peggy knew as much 
about them as Jabez did. Jabez took a weekly paper, 
edited in his own state, and the occasion of its coming 
once a week was looked forward to with as much de- 
light as if it was a little fortune. Jabez or one of the 
children tramped cheerfully to the office weekly on 
what they called paper day, and upon their return, if 
Jabez was not ready to swallow its contents, Peggy 
adjusted her spectacles with the remark, “I’m going 
to see what’s going on in the world. ” 

Left alone, Jabez and Peggy resumed their conversa- 
tion upon topics concerning the times and their sur- 
roundings. They paid due attention to the spellings, 
quiltings and sleigh riding ; not forgetting the young 
peoples’ loves and engagements. Every one felt at 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. I9 

liberty to call upon every other one in the settlement 
for help, and such gatherings were called bees. If a 
cabin was to be built the neighbors were invited to 
help; the trees were felled, the logs rough hewn, 
piled up, a roof put upon them, and it became some- 
body’s home. They husked corn and killed pigs after 
the same fashion. When the patched quilt was ready 
for quilting the young folks were especially delighted, 
as the work wound up with a frolic that might seem 
ridiculous to the pleasure loving young people of their 
ages today. After the quilt was taken out of the 
frame and carefully laid away, they ate the good things 
that had been provided. Then arraigning themselves 
in pairs around the walls of the cabin played “heavy, 
heavy hangs over your head,’’ or “button, button, 
who’s got the button. ’’ 

The log school house, in which some of our illustri- 
ous statesmen were daily conning their lessons, stood 
not far from the cabin of Jabez, and was the scene of 
many a spelling match, the hero of which was looked 
upon as a very extraordinary person. Another house 
of similar proportion, not far away, was known as the 
meeting house. A little further down the road stood 
a house much like the last mentioned, save a rude 
wooden cross, innocent of paint, nailed firmly on the 
front gable, which marked the place of worship of the 
few among them who clung to the faith of ages. At 
the cross roads, not a stone’s throw from the church, 
stood the post office. The warm hearted, who were so 
far removed from their friends, often called at the lit- 
tle office, eagerly expecting a letter from the East, 
which came slowly by way of canal, and stage coach. 
Naturally enough, such place would become the 
nucleus of a village. After awhile a little country 
store was opened, where groceries, pins, needles, 


20 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


thread and many such necessaries were sold. A 
blacksmith was sorely needed, and he, too, found his 
way to the cross roads. A drug store became a neces- 
sity, the herbs that had been gathered and treasured 
by grandmothers did not come up to the idea of the 
rising American. So that, before the night in ques- 
tion, the cross roads had assumed the above mentioned 
proportion, with an additional attraction that Peggy, 
with all her interest concerning what might be going 
on in the world, had not yet discovered. 

To some the spellings and quiltings and “dropping 
in on a neighbor of an evening’’ were evidently be- 
coming dull, and John Strand was one who was fast 
forgetting his old friends and their harmless pastimes, 
yet he was universally liked, he had a heart as warm 
and a mind as willing to do his neighbor a good turn 
as any man in the settlement. He was now missed at 
nearly all their gatherings, and the wonder often went 
around “What could be coming over John.’’ 

Even “his Winnie,’’ as he always lovingly spoke of 
her, failed to keep her father at home when the gath- 
ering was at his own cabin. Every one had his theory 
concerning the cause; some attributed it to loss of 
health, others to loss of mind, while but one or two in 
the whole community with certainty and in whisper 
spoke the cause. 

It had been fully three days since John had called at 
the cabin of Jabez, and Pegg}^ was hard at work ren- 
dering the lard after the “butchering,’’ when she was 
startled by a “good-morning, Mrs. Ghent.’’ She 
turned and saluted the young owner of the team that 
was the delight of the lovers of sleigh riding, who had 
just stepped in with Jabez. She scanned him care- 
fully for a moment and asked : 

“What’s gone wrong, Steve?’’ 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


2 


“John Strand has not been seen for three days, and 
Mrs. Strand asked me to call at the neighbors, maybe 
he is about some place. ’ ’ 

“He’s not been here these three days, but Jabez 
said last evening he is seen often of late with Hiram 
Blank. Mebbe you’d hear some news of him if you 
went over there. ’ ’ 

Peggy looked at Jabez, astonished that he had not 
told Steve, the more so as he was her informer. But 
that Hiram Blank’s was not just as correct a place for 
John Strand or any other man to spend his leisure 
hours as another neighbor’s cabin might be, she did 
not for a moment imagine. 

Steve thanked Peggy for the information, and started 
across the fields in the direction of Hibe’s cabin. After 
his departure Peggy “tidied up a bit,” put on shawl 
and bonnet and went to “John’s,” as the cabin was 
familiarly called. She found Mrs. Strand and Winnie 
in distress; she tried to cheer them and drive away 
dark forebodings, but when the day was nearly spent 
and Steve had not returned with any tidings, the 
thought came to Peggy that Jabez had better go in 
search. She returned to find Jabez in the cabin before 
her, and told him how John Strand had not been seen 
since the night he called there and acted so strangely. 

Jabez may have taken the trouble to investigate 
concerning John’s stange actions; however that may 
be, he shook his head and certainly knew a great deal 
more than Peggy told him. 

“You’d better hurry, Jabez,” said Peggy, “and see 
what can be done to bring cheer to those left in the 
dark. ’ ’ 

“It’s no use, Peggy, no use; Steve knows all about 
John’s whereabouts, and I’m thinking he’s the best one 
to break the news.” 


CHAPTER III 


The cross roads was fast becoming a place of unusual 
interest. The soft-handed stranger who had come to 
the thrifty settlement some months before was an en- 
terprising sort of a man ; his enterprise being the kind 
that adroitly managed to turn the labor of others into 
account for himself. He had taken a little spot that 
could not be called a farm and hardly a garden. It 
was evident he did not like hard work, and those who 
were born and bred to work were slow to understand 
how he managed to thrive and look so genteel. As 
his method of making a living was not plain, they 
invested him with an imaginary fortune stowed away 
in a convenient place, and, like the hereafter in this 
respect, that it was without end. 

It was but natural to have respect for the fine stran- 
ger who toiled not and to have a desire to become 
closely acquainted with him ; the more so as he sought 
and seemed equally well pleased with their acquaint- 
ance. 

He was spoken of by all far and near as “the gen- 
tleman,” and the good people laughingly remarked, 
“It’s a poor place that can’t afford one gentleman. ” 

That the secret of his easy life and thrift stood in 
the corner of his cabin is certain, but in what shape 
not many had yet learned. Sociable, big-hearted, 
good-natured John Strand was the first to become in- 
itiated into the mystery of the newcomer’s wonderful 
magnet, that gradually drew others and had the won- 
derful retaining power as well. Such being the case, 
neighbor Hibe’s quarters were getting uncomfortably 


22 


ISAAC DRAQUE. THE BUCKEYE. 


23 


small for the accommodation of his daily additional 
friends. He always made himself as companionable 
as possible, and those who called were prone to linger. 
Therefore, what was originally an eight by ten cabin 
assumed proportions somewhat larger; the addition 
being a room built to the front of the cabin and sup- 
posed to be roomy enough to accommodate his fast 
increasing friends without interfering with the house- 
hold affairs. 

Mrs. Blank could now general the family in private, 
and, when the occasion required, step to the front and 
help Hibe, she being admirably adapted to the purpose, 
whether by nature or by training is not quite certain. 
From the standpoint self, Hibe was a shrewd, big- 
headed man who kept himself fairly posted in all that 
would be likely to interest his patrons. He took an 
active part in everything going on, and became in- 
terested at once to a wonderful degree in whatever 
conversation might arise. Aside from the family, he 
was the chief mourner at every funeral, and, when the 
minister was disabled, he, being the only gentleman 
of leisure in the place, filled the position with as much 
ease as if he had been especially fitted for it. And 
altogether, he was an exceedingly handy man to have 
about. No wonder he drew from their homes both 
old and young; besides, his secret of retaining them 
was one no other man in the settlement had yet 
thought of. 

Winter evenings were most prolific of discussion 
and amusements at Hibe’s domicile, but all the year 
round brought patrons and hangers-on. John Strand 
spent so much time there he was beginning to be 
looked upon as a necessity about the place. On this 
particular evening farmer Draque strode leisurely 
toward the door ; his face one great smile, his mouth 


24 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


from ear to ear, showing a row of strong teeth, and 
the suspicion of another equally strong that, possessed 
by any other animal than the genus homo, would have 
appeared formidable ; but instead, the sight had the 
effect of teeth showing all around, for upon seeing 
Draque each at once did the best he could toward a 
display in the same direction. 

“I’ll declare,” said neighbor Draque, accosting John 
Strand, “if I didn’t think I’d beat you here tonight.” 

“You’ll leave home early, Draque, when you get 
here before John,” said neighbor Klomp, and a hearty 
laugh from all around clearly confirmed the truth of 
what Klomp said. 

“Well!” continued Klomp, “what are you doing 
down at your place these days, Draque?” 

“Logging; as the weather is suitable thought I’d get 
that north lot cleared up a bit; can’t get much of a 
crop off it yet for the logs. ’ ’ 

“Don’t you find it pretty slow work alone, Draque,” 
said Klomp. 

“I’d find it slow work alone, I’m sure, for I find it 
slow work with Ike’s help,” replied Draque. 

“Oh!” exclaimed Klomp, “you’ve kept the boy 
from school. That’s bad; the few months’ schooling 
the youngsters have a chance of they ought to get. ’ ’ 

“I think about as you do, myself,” said Draque; 
“but schooling the boy ’ill not pile the logs, and I want 
that north lot cleared by spring. I’ll keep him at it 
for a while till I get it in such shape that a day’s 
hauling from the neighbors will clear it off, and then 
I’ll let him go to school again.” 

Neighbor Klomp straightened up, and, turning a 
sharp look at Draque, said, “You’re a good manager, 
Draque. ’ ’ 

“ Good managing, ” answered Draque, “is the road 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


25 


to wealth, and, as I see it in fifty years from now, this 
will be something of a place. ” 

“As we are comfortable here and the drinks are 
good, I see no harm in castle building,” said John 
Strand. 

“Not a bit,” chimed in a dozen voices. “They 
who build casjtles as we are building them just now 
are as happy as they who live in them. ” 

“We might as well build castles if it’s to take fifty 
years to make a place out of this, ’ ’ said Klomp, with 
a significant nod. He then continued, “I think we’ll 
not be much caring what sort of a place it is by that 
time. ’ ’ 

“Well, I can’t say that’s exactly my spirit,” said 
Draque. “I’d like to leave the place a little better 
than I found it. ’ ’ 

Ike now appeared upon the scene — fifteen-year-old 
Ike — a handsome, manly fellow with dark hair, large 
brown eyes and large shapely hands the logs had not 
yet made an impression upon for the worse. His fine 
features were beaming with smiles as he picked his 
way through the crowd of elders to where a half dozen 
lads of his own age had gathered. The whole crowd 
turned admiring eyes upon Ike as he crossed the floor. 

“It’s a pity to keep that lad from school, Draque,” 
said Klomp. “I’m not a learned man as schooling 
goes, but I’ve the sense to see he has a head on him 
that would grace a lord. ’ ’ 

“You couldn’t be as complimentary to his father, 
Klomp, ’ ’ said the man in the crowd who never ven- 
tured to say much in a joking way, but always felt 
pretty certain he was right when he did speak. 

‘‘They tell me I was a fine-looking fellow when I 
was a lad,” said Draque, straightening up until he 
manifested to them he was of the sarne opinion himself. 


26 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


“That was a long time ago, and those who said so 
are dead, so we don’t stand in danger of quarreling, 
though we differ with them to a man,” said Klomp, 
which remark brought an approving nod and a tre- 
mendous laugh from all around. The joke on Draque 
was enjoyed by the young fellows, who, giggling, 
looked at Ike. But Ike was not the boy who could 
heartily enter into a joke at his father’s expense, and 
with a vacant air he looked out over the moon-lighted 
snow field, so bright that when he withdrew his gaze 
and looked around the room once more, he found it 
difficult to discern objects by the dim flicker of the 
tallow dip, though helped by the smoldering coals in 
the fireplace. 

“Draque, how does it come we don’t hear from 
you?’’ came a voice from the midst of the crowd. 
“Since I knew you I never saw the time till now that 
you couldn’t laugh as loud as your neighbor at a good 
joke. ” 

“It’s strange, isn’t it, Draque,” said Klomp, looking 
at Draque, “that a man of sense can’t laugh when the 
joke is on himself?” Then turning to his next neigh- 
bor, Klomp continued, “That accounts for the draw- 
ing down of the corners of Draque’s mouth that gives 
him such an unnatural look. The joke is generally 
on another man, you understand, and Draque at the 
bottom of it. ’ ’ 

Neighbor Draque thought it was now his turn to 
get even with somebody. He backed his chair into 
the corner, so as to get a good view of the whole 
crowd, and in his own peculiar way eyed them all 
around, then, with a comical smile, said : 

“I’ll wager no one dead or alive ever said as much 
for any of the rest of you. ’ ’ 

Draque’s remark, although as much to the point as 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 27 

the preceding, did not create the same amount of 
mirth. However, Draque could stand it. He felt he 
was even with his neighbors, who a few moments 
before held high carnival over him. Ike, although 
he did not move a muscle, showed by the twinkle in 
his eye he was proud of his father’s triumph. Al- 
though they, Draque included, were not handsome 
men according to the standard, they were far from 
being uninteresting as a study. Their features were 
roughened by toil and privation; the biting frosts of 
winter and the scorching summer sun are sure to leave 
impressions upon those who have to struggle through 
life for home, bread and butter. 

But beneath the rough exterior were men of whom 
the state might well be proud. With them a trust was 
sacred. Not knowing luxury, they without exception 
renounced even common comforts to pay the last 
farthing. 

The crowd now looked as if joking might not be the 
best pastime in the world and all were satisfied to quit. 
Draque shrugged his shoulders and looked around, 
not as badly beaten as they thought at first, and evi- 
dently had something more to say. It was also evi- 
dent his neighbors did not care to hear what that 
something might be, and did not intend to give him 
an opportunity by speaking first. At length he re- 
marked : 

“I notice a joke has about the same effect upon a 
dozen men of sense when it’s upon themselves that it 
has upon one. What say ye?” All of which brought 
no response. 

They had now gotten thoroughly warmed. The 
elders all had their drinks, and were thinking about 
settling down in earnest at their usual entertainments 
—card-playing and general conversation about how 


28 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


they were making things move at their respective 
places, with an occasional story to “liven” things up 
a little. 

A wigwam left standing on John Strand’s farm was 
the source of much trouble to him. Probably he was 
more conscientious, after all, than his neighbors, and 
the idea of an injustice being done to another race 
may have so weighed upon him that he did not feel 
he was rightful owner. Consequently his hanging 
on at Hibe’s and not caring to work another man’s 
farm, even though that man might be a red man. 
He was a business man according to his own way, 
and had the deed which guaranteed him ownership 
properly examined. Notwithstanding all that he was 
never lawyer enough to see clearly through the “first 
deed business,” as he called it, and was a little uneasy 
as to how things might turn out. 

He may have seen in his dreams the red man re- 
turning and taking possession of his wigwam, and, al- 
though he knew he would never interfere with him in 
the farming part of the business, he was a little un- 
certain as to how he would like him for a neighbor. 
The pointed flints with which the former occupant of 
the place had tipped his arrows, either for defense or 
to bring down the game, were lying about in pro- 
fusion, and may have been suggestive of John’s un- 
easiness. 

He poured his woes into the willing ears of Hiram 
Blank, who was the right man to handle the subject, 
and soon over a friendly glass convinced John that 
from time immemorial there had been men who went 
a little astray on the side of conscience just as he was 
doing. It would be hard to tell whether the argument 
or the friendly glass went the farther toward con- 
vincing. That the latter was at least an important 


ISAAC DfiAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


29 


factor in the case will satisfy at present, as John’s 
scruples are not permanently laid at rest, but crop 
out on divers occasions, and are as often quieted after 
the same manner. 

Hiram Blank was so logical in all his arguments 
with John concerning the wigwam and its former 
occupant, that plain neighbors Draque and Klomp 
did not get half an idea regarding the meaning of all 
that was being said and were aching for plain talk. 
Braque’s hands were itching for a crowbar to handle 
the logs, for the north lot was expected to grow com 
the next season, and if talking about logs did not 
remove them, it was at least a subject to his liking. 

“I’ll tell you,” Draque began, looking at Klomp, 
“we’d better get some talking done before John has 
any more scruples to discuss. That off’ ox of mine 
can outpull any other ox in logging. If the other 
was only as good I mightn’t have to ask you for yours. 
I’d like the loan of him for a day or two till we get 
the tops together, Ike and I. ’ ’ 

“You can have him and welcome,” said Klomp. “I 
haven’t any work for him now. I’m not in as good 
shape as you are. I’ve a mighty lot of chopping to 
do before I can haul much. The logs I have down 
on my place are all too long for hauling. It’s a pity 
we can’t land them in Liverpool or some other Old 
World town. I tell you, if we could the money I’d 
pocket for them would make the place mine, and no 
further payments or contriving about it. ’ ’ 

“Yes,” said Draque, “we’re making bonfires of tim- 
ber they’d be mighty glad to lay their hands on over 
there. It’s one of the inconveniences of life that we 
have the timber and they have the money, and, al- 
though we’re willing enough on both sides to make 
the exchange, the exchange can’t be made.” 


30 ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 

Klomp, with a vision of his fine oak and hickory 
going out in smoke, smiled a little sadly and said: 
“We might as well good-naturedly determine to be 
satisfied with the condition of things that’s a fact, 
Draque. ’ ’ 

John Strand was now extremely comfortable, and 
sat with his chair tilted back, the heels of his boots 
caught on the rounds and his chin buried in his chest, 
untroubled by scruples, and apparently regardless of 
everything transpiring around him. His neighbors 
sat bolt upright and eyed him with a pity akin to dis- 
gust. It did not occur to them that they had taken 
glass for glass with John the whole evening, and that 
from some other cause than too much, which they 
would never admit they had taken, he was in the un- 
manly condition they saw him. Even Mr. Blank had 
no excuse to offer, save the silver that jingled in his 
pockets, which the others had contributed with equal 
liberality, and had the independence to hold their 
heads up with more dignity about his promises. 

The young fellows all the while were engaged in a 
game of euchre. With empty purses they could not 
indulge on a larger scale, as did their elders. But the 
odor of the toddy was agreeable, and withal time spent 
there so enjoyable they could be counted upon to re- 
turn with every opportunity that offered. Draque was 
never the man to overdo things in the direction of 
pleasure, and late hours that would leave him unfit for 
an attack upon the north lot in the morning was very 
far from his way of managing at present. He arose, 
and reaching for his hat, said: 

“Ike, we must be off.” 

“You’re in a hurry, Draque,” said Klomp; “you’re 
as strong as the rest of us and could stand it an hour 
longer, it’s not so late.” 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


3 


But when Draque was ready to do a thing he did it, 
and Ike, unheeding the entreaties of his companions 
for another game, was on his feet, with hat in hand 
ready. A drink before starting out in the cold was 
not contrary to Draque ’s idea, of the proper thing, and 
being too unselfish to warm himself with a good drink 
and let Ike walk by his side in the cold un warmed, 
said: 

“Come, Ike, I don’t begrudge you anything that 
will do you good. ’ ’ 

Ike, seemingly reluctant, walked half way across the 
room and stood still, but at his father’s second call: 

“Come, Ike, it’s a bad night and you’ve a long 
stretch of a path to cover before you get home. ’ ’ 

Ike, blushing scarlet to the roots of his hair, obeyed, 
and stepping forward drained the offered glass. 

Neighbor Klomp appeared to feel it necessary on his 
part to offer an apology, considering he was not prompt 
like Draque in going home when it was time, and said : 

‘ ‘ Draque has a bit farther to go than the rest of us, 
and if he attempts to cross the lots he’ll find it hard 
pulling. The snow is deep yet in places; he’ll need 
all he took to keep him warm till he get’s there. ” 

“That’s a fine looking lad of his, in earnest,’’ said 
the one in the crowd who did not try to talk much 
without being certain he was right, and who always 
gave for a reason “I’d rather listen,” except upon his 
hobby, when, according to Draque and many others, 
“he always tried to get a word in edgeways, right or 
wrong.” He did not often enter into the funny part 
of the conversation, a fact the neighbors all knew, 
consequently his joke on Draque was the more telling. 

“He’s ahead in all the spelling matches they have 
over at the school house, ’ ’ said Klomp. 

“More’s the pity for Draque to not let him have a 


32 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


chance, and I hear we have a first rate teacher now — 
that fellow from the East, ’ ’ said the silent man. 

“Mark my word for it, that lad ’ill be heard from yet 
in spite of the schooling, ’ ’ said Klomp. 

A new arrival informed the crowd it was growing 
colder, said, “he thought the mercury must be near 
down to zero,’’ and continued, “after the cold spell we 
had when the thaw came was hoping we’d have open 
weather for awhile, but think it’s all up now; we’re in 
for a hard freeze. ’ ’ 

Then going as near the fire as he could get, he sat 
down, whereupon there was a general stir in the room, 
all endeavoring to get closer to the fire ; the young fel- 
lows following in the rear. 

One lad, distinguished from the others by the name 
of Frank Schiver, who did not know much about new 
fangled ideas, opened his eyes wide and straightened 
up as if ready for immediate action. Although he was 
wedged in the corner by a huge whisky barrel, he had 
as much horror as any boy living for being in the 
wrong place. He was now prepared for any emer- 
gency, whether fast running or standing his ground. 
If the elders agreed upon flight his heels would be 
among the first seen ; but if they were to stand their 
ground he was there. In neither look nor attitude 
could be found coward. To be certain as to what 
course to pursue, he ventured to ask : 

“Is zero a bad place for the mercury to be?” 

“It’s a bad place, boy, a very bad place, sure 
enough, when a man is without an overcoat,” said 
Klomp, who looked around to see that more than half 
in the room were in the same plight he was in himself 
and continued : 

“A fellow that hasn’t a coat had better be at home 
in bed this night. ’ ’ 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


33 


Close by the hearth fire the sympathetic shiver crept 
over all. The shiver was not unnoticed by Hiram 
Blank, who said; 

“You’re comfortable here; at least I can make you 
so. I don’t mind firing up all night for friends, wood’s 
plenty. ’ ’ 

Hibe piled log after log upon the fire that was burn- 
ing low. It was now pretty generally understood that 
those who came unprepared for the sudden change in 
temperature were in for the night. Among those who 
had overcoats some felt too comfortable to change 
their quarters; the others, buttoning their coats to 
their chins, left, not caring to risk whether the mer- 
cury would be at or below zero did they wait longer. 

“Till morning; and how will we get home in the 
morning, Hibe?” asked Klomp. “Are you ready to pre- 
dict fairer weather for that hour. 

“I’m really not a prophet,” said Hibe, smiling 
blandly; “but you’ll have daylight for it, anyway, and 
we’ve had such squalls as this before, and you all got 
home safe, eh?” 

They all acknowledged Hibe’s last remark was truth- 
ful, and as they had been safe on other occasions why 
not on this. 

The crackling logs were now sending forth a blaze 
that hugged and wrapped and then shot straight up, 
sending out a warmth that was exceedingly comfort- 
able, and bid fair to settle all disputes that might arise 
contrary to the staying all night question. The mer- 
cury may not have fallen as low as the newcomer 
predicted; if so, it arose as suddenly as it fell, and 
when morning came a cold northeastern wind blew 
sleet and rain into the faces of those emerging from 
Hiram Blank’s. 

The branches that the night before were bare were 


34 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE, 


now covered with ice. The long icicles pendant from 
tree and cornice seemingly intent upon reaching the 
ground — ground covered with snow and ice that would 
gladly hold them in beautiful position did they reach. 
The tramp in different difections to their respective 
homes was anything but pleasant, and the day, such 
as rendered out door work impossible. But they need 
not be idle; there were always odd jobs to be done 
about house and farm, the performance of which 
went pretty far toward distinguishing the respective 
men for thrift. Hiram Blank, having the room to 
himself, put on a back log, covered the fire, and go- 
ing to a little wooden box set in the corner, counted 
his money and chuckling to himself, said : 

“I’d have to pile many a log before I’d get as much 
together as that; besides, it’s too drudging a work for 
me, others may do it. I’ll keep on the good side of 
them and I’m fixed.” 

Hibe had a conscience that was seldom disturbed, 
and why should it be ; he was violating no law that he 
knew of. He was only shrewd enough to see that 
money might be gotten easily. He did not feel like 
putting a shoulder to the wheel so hard to turn, whose 
revolutions in less than a century were to make Ohio 
one of the most independent as well as the proudest 
little state that counts a star in the banner that waves 
so gracefully over all. 

He choked whatever remorse might arise, saying: 

“It’s only a little I got from each; they’ll not miss 
it. ” 

He had no storm to face as his patrons had, and re- 
tired with the injunction that Mrs. Blank “should keep 
her eye on the door, ’ ’ which she did. 


CHAPTER IV. 


The neighbors in general were beginning to look 
upon Jabez as “old fogy. ” He did not enter into the 
amusements held forth at Hiram Blank’s, and for 
some reason, which they could not tell, and did not 
care to discuss, never darkened his door, which was 
contrary to the neighborly feeling indulged in from 
the start, and which was not approved of by the com- 
munity ; the more so as he was not a recluse and called 
upon other neighbors. Draque came in for the even- 
ing call from Jabez, oftener than the average neigh- 
bor, because he “was handy,” or, in other words, his 
next neighbor. Sometimes other neighbors, for old 
times’ sake, remembered Jabez and Draque, and 
turned a cold shoulder on Hibe. 

When an opinion was wanted upon any subject from 
Jabez he was invariably found, either at his own cabin 
or Draque ’s. Evenings and stormy days were the 
times given to such exchange of opinions. If Jabez 
was found at home he was seated in his straight 
backed easy chair, with book or paper in hand, or 
talking over family affairs, or whatever subject might 
happen to arise with Peggy, who sometimes sat at her 
table on the right knitting, and again with hands and 
feet at work at the little old country spinning wheel her 
own mother brought over, or whatever “trifling thing” 
she might And to do. Trifling thing being a name 
Peggy had for work that gave her a chance of listening 
to Jabez and the neighbors, and of putting a word in 
where she thought it belonged. Aside from being 
wideawake, the neighbors found Peggy a pretty deter- 


35 


36 ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 

mined woman, who,, when she felt she was right, stood 
as firmly by her own views as any one. 

The silent man who never talked for talk’s sake, and 
who will be known from henceforth as Tobias Lenk, 
divided his leisure time pretty evenly between the 
cabins of Jabez and Hibe. From a political point of 
view Jabez came nearer agreeing with him than those 
he invariably met at Hibe’s. It was a pleasure to go 
there sometimes and hear Jabez discuss articles in his 
weekly; but, however near their views might come to 
the blending point, they always closed their argument 
agreeing to disagree. Tobias Lenk who, in a familiar 
way was called Tobe, clearly saw that Jabez was a 
man who was ever ready to shoulder manfully all bur- 
dens that came unavoidably to his lot, but, like the 
average good man, he did not think it necessary to 
step outside a radius of five miles or of the county ; the 
very outside limit being his own state. Also, in per- 
forming his own obligations, however hard, he was 
never the man to place burdens upon others, but if 
those burdens had been imposed prior to his time and 
outside his radius, of course that was something he had 
nothing to do with. He could not be considered re- 
sponsible for the doings of the whole creation. 

Young Isaac Draque often turned away from Hibe’s 
and spent an evening with Jabez. There was some- 
thing about Jabez he liked; he would sit by the hour 
and listen to him and Peggy and often Tobe talking 
over the state of things, both in the North and South. 
When a neighbor mentioned to Draque that Ike was 
more serious and steady than many other boys of his 
age, his reply invariably was, “Ike is given to think- 
ing, is Ike. ’ ’ 

Although Ike seldom expressed an opinion, never 
but when asked, and then blushing that he had an opin- 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


37 


ion is certain ; that right and wrong were clearly out- 
lined in him, and that he would stand by the one and 
as vigorously oppose the other, any one who could see 
his thoughtful, determined face would readily admit. 
In the meantime, he piled logs when he must, and 
went to school when he could. But all the time ideas 
were being developed; he thought and thought and 
his healthy brain grew stronger and his big heart 
larger. Many a time, in the past summers, he sat on a 
rock with bare feet in the cool river, and thought 
about the big world and its fine people, of kings and 
queens, and courts and high life, that he had read 
about in books, and heard Jabez and Peggy talk about 
in their cabin. It was all before him, a picture. He 
had never seen a finer home than a cabin, nor any one 
more lovable than Jabez ’s daughter Meg, a little miss 
of thirteen, fair and joyous as the birds that, in early 
spring, made the woods resound with their songs. 
Again Ike stood by the pond thinking ; surely no man 
ever hit the mark truer than Draque when he said, 
“Ike is given to thinking, is Ike.” With neither mas- 
ter nor rule he was learning profound lessons from the 
great book of nature spread out before him. He 
stooped and picking up a pebble threw it into the 
water, and watched the spreading commotion as one 
circle circumscribed another, and thoughtfully await- 
ing the commotion to subside threw in another and 
another, always letting time enough intervent for the 
water in the pond to become still. 

Sometimes he threw with greater, and sometimes 
with less, force, always observing the effect. At last 
he would pick up a stone larger than the former, and 
throw with all the force he could summon into the 
very center of the pond, and watch the rapidity with 
which one circle outcircled another until the whole 


38 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


pond was in a furious state of commotion. Then, 
satisfied^with his feat in that direction, having learned 
that he could stir the water from the center to the 
very brink, he would pocket his hands, turn his atten- 
tion so something else, and stroll on. 

He looked long and earnestly at the little acorn that 
the autumn before fell from such a height, and was 
sinking into the earth beneath his feet, and under- 
stood that were it left untouched, under proper influ- 
ences, would be the progenitor of the oak that in the 
years to come would be tall as the one beneath which 
he stood. 

But, as he surveyed the scene,, he knew full well it 
was doomed, for the plow share would tear its tiny 
roots did it remain much longer. He picked it up and 
pulled it out of the cup in which it was still imbedded, 
turned it around and around boylike, and then looked 
at the big tree. The human mind is made to wonder 
and think and reason ; to reach out as far as possible 
to the Creator in admiring His creation. And the 
thoughtful boy with few books in hand, and little time 
to learn their lessons often has great ideas that he may 
find difficult for a time to convey to others not being 
familiar with the rules according to which those he 
comes in contact with understand. The one who un- 
derstands him thoroughly must learn as he learned — 
from nature. 

Thus, roaming the fields and forests, Ike took in the 
starry heavens without book or guide. He knew little 
of the constellations, and their mythological names. 
The milky way spread out before him its countless 
millions of shining stars. Selecting those of greater 
magnitude he formed squares and triangles and 
parallelograms with which he was familiar as with the 
faces around his own fireside. The north star he 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


39 


knew by name, and could locate ; and he watched the 
great and little bear, as they chased each other around 
the North Pole. 

To the astronomer it may seem a very vague, and 
unsatisfactory way of becoming familiar with the heav- 
ens, but without knowing the gods and goddesses of 
the old pagans, or being able to recognize them in the 
constellations ; he was wrapped in sublime admiration of 
the true God, who scattered the stars in such profu- 
sion, guides their unerring course and gave a little 
atom upon this big earth the faculty of looking so far 
through boundless space, and of recognizing the 
Creator in His perfect handiwork. 

It is true the boy’s intelligence was not in accord- 
ance with the bookmakers’ or professors’ rule. He 
was aware of the fact that the stars were bright above 
him ; that they were made by God and that God re- 
quired his homage, which is prime intelligence. All 
the little accessories, such as naming and classifying 
it is so sweet to know, Ike was not learning. 

But men who have done wonderful things for good 
have acquired the better part of their education in pre- 
cisely the same manner. For Ike mother earth, 
clothed in her various garbs, was an open book. He 
breathed the delicious flower laden airs of spring, with 
thankful heart. 

The storm that swept over forest and fleld gave him 
wonderful ideas of power. The great oak that tow- 
ered above him, and the flower that bloomed in ex- 
quisite perfection at his feet were masters that had 
much to do in their silent way of teaching. Combined 
with this at his humble hearthstone the blessing of 
heaven was invoked upon their coarse food, and he was 
schooled in the sublime, the proof of which is right 
living and noble action. 


40 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


Although villages were growing and colleges being 
built throughout the state, Ike had not yet been fort- 
unate enough either to see the one or derive any ad- 
vantage from the other. Draque thought, after much 
deliberation, he would give him a chance, and a better 
chance than the district school afforded; notwith- 
standing they all agreed the Yankee schoolmaster was 
a good one, well qualified to fill his place, and whose 
dialect fell with irresistible sweetness upon the ears of 
the Buckeye lasses. 

The north lot was in good shape, and Draque “al- 
lowed Bill was creeping up and could take Ike’s place 
for a spell, especially as the work now was not as 
heavy as logging.” “I’ll do the plowing myself,” he 
continued, “and Bill can follow the harrow, while 
dropping corn into the hills and hoeing and picking 
potatoes is only fun for a lad with Bill’s muscle. ” 

So Ike was equipped for school. A college with 
still a name, and the most conspicuous article of 
equipment was an ax with which he was to earn his 
board by chopping cord wood before and after school 
hours for the good farmer who lived near the college 
and provided fire wood for the institution, and who 
thought he could make an honest penny by boarding 
such a fine, willing looking boy as Ike. 

Once his mind made up Draque thought it useless 
to wait until the September term commenced. He 
thought it better for Ike “to be getting into the ways 
of the place,” and he started him at once early in 
April, just fifteen years before the memorable twelfth, 
when the first shot fell upon Sumter. To say that 
Ike was industrious hardly does him justice; he 
worked with such a will at both books and cord wood, 
nor was he altogether alone in his hardships. Others 
were being educated under similar circumstances, and. 


ISAAC DRAQUK. THR BUCKEYE. 4I 

they helped one another along with good cheer. 
Pleasure was not the word in those days; they some- 
times had fun, which did not mean being continually 
comfortable, with a great many variations of the de- 
lightful added, according to the inclination or taste of 
the individual, as appears to be the meaning of the 
word pleasure today, but something that aroused the 
spirit and lifted it altogether above the everyday 
drudgery, and always let it down again so happy and 
ready to contend with whatever obstacle might be 
found in the way, with such a will and so full of hope. 

Ike whacked away at the logs with a determination 
either to annihilate or bring all that was in them out. 
The latter he did to the complete satisfaction of the 
man who gave him in return shelter, food and the 
necessary fire and tallow candle to enable him to pursue 
his studies far into the night. 

Ike finished his education at college in less than 
eighteen months, which does not mean he could learn 
no more there nor that he had gone through the 
course. 

Draque was a man who liked to do things well when 
he went about doing them at all ; but he thought, ‘ ‘ Ike 
couldn’t be expected to spend a lifetime there, and 
besides, he had been there long enough to lay up a 
good bit of learning.” Draque believed in “going 
ahead and doing things up. ’ ’ Going to college with 
him was much like clearing the north lot — the sooner 
he got through the better. 

It must not be thought, however, all that “learning” 
was to be thrown away and Ike brought back to clear 
other lots. Draque had determined, “let things jog 
along as the}^ might on the farm, ’ ’ to not deprive Ike 
of further opportunity “to make the best out of him- 
self. ’ ’ Bill was a ‘ ‘ smart lad, ’ ’ and came up to Draque ’s 


42 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


greatest expectations in filling Ike’s place. So a law- 
yer was found by Draque who was willing to teach Ike 
“the law,” in return for chores he expected him to do 
about the office — chores of all kinds, from lighting and 
keeping up fires and the office in order to writing by 
the hour and “learning the law” when an opportunity 
offered. Notwithstanding the drawbacks, Ike was not 
slow in the “law learning.” The lawyer with whom 
he was studying said of him, “He is a young man able 
to take care of himself at anything, and one of the 
most promising traits I see in him is he takes in the 
situation at once, and I claim it is not every lawyer 
who can do that. A man may know the law like the 
sound of the dinner bell, and be as ready to grapple with 
it as with the meal spread before him, and still not 
be a success. ’ ’ 


CHAPTER V. 


Hiram Blank’s patrons have again assembled. After 
the customary salutations and usual amount of small 
talk, all were quiet for a few moments, each one seem- 
ingly mapping out a plan for himself as to future pro- 
ceedings. 

While they were a look-after-your-own-affairs sort 
of people, they evidently did not ignore the truth that 
other people lived and had equal rights with them- 
selves. That those people had no right to the cabins 
they themselves had built and the Sunday dinners 
they had provided, they would stoutly affirm ; yet that 
they had particular rights in their own respective lo- 
cations they as frankly admitted, and, as they under- 
stood it, this great machinery called Government was 
something that protected them in those rights. 

The question now far from being ignored, if not 
uppermost in their minds, was the coming election, 
and which would be the better man to fill the presi- 
dential chair, although it would be some time yet, be- 
fore said candidate would be named. A new question 
that bid fair to not amount to much, agitated the 
minds of a few, and those few were called fanatics. 

Tobias Lenk was the one fanatic in this particular 
part of the state who had the question so much at 
heart that when an opportunity presented he made 
an effort to strike for the slave. The majority at 
Hibe’s were very far from being interested in Tobe’s 
“hobby,” as it was called, and but for their high 
opinion of him in other respects would have dubbed 
him a crank. 


43 


44 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


The slave had been for long years securely chained, 
and the whole country had evidently accepted the 
conditions of master and slave without a thought as 
to the right or the wrong. A mere handful of men 
were beginning to agitate that the whole system was 
wrong, and men of sense were found everywhere de- 
nouncing those fanatics in most bitter terms. Wise 
men saw nothing wrong in the position, and ministers 
argued that from the beginning, or at least to a very 
remote time, there had been bond and free. Some 
took a pleasure in going back to the days of Abraham 
to prove to his wavering brother that there were mas- 
ter and slave because God had so ordained it, and 
looked upon any effort to redeem the slave as in direct 
opposition to God’s will. 

“Well,” said Draque, who appeared to be the first 
to see the way before him, “we’re here again, and the 
night bids fair to be a pleasant one. I think a moder- 
ate fire will be all we’ll need tonight, and the weather’s 
no excuse for loafers to stay all night — eh, Hibe?” 

While surveying the assembled crowd Draque rubbed 
his hands briskly together to warm them well, or maybe 
habit was at the bottom of the rubbing, for he was 
often seen rubbing his hands as vigorously as now 
when there was hardly any frost in the air. He had 
so long handled the crowbar and had so often resorted 
to that means of warming that the motion had become 
as natural as the putting one foot before the other in 
walking. 

Tobias Lenk saw his opportunity and said, “We’re 
free men at least. There’s no one to say we shall or 
we sha’n’t. If we don’t choose to go we can stay, and 
not expect a master after us to fetch us home, and 
like as not a flogging after we got there. ” 

“I’ll tell you, Tobe, ” said Klomp, “we’ll just let 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


45 


those fellows rest where they are. It’s pleasant weather 
down there. Besides, their masters own them. They 
bought and paid for them, and we have no right to 
interfere. Those who are trying to make trouble among 
them will meet their fate yet, or I’m blind as an owl. ” 
“That’s sure, ” responded Hiram Blank. “What law- 
fully belongs to a man belongs to him, and those 
planters own the blacks just as you own your ox, Tobe, 
and I think you’d not be willing to give him up for 
the asking. ’ ’ 

Good neighbor Klomp, who would not willingly do 
any man a wrong, agreed with Hibe “to a dot,” as he 
expressed it, and continued jokingly, “I think we 
could find something to talk about nearer our homes 
and hearts than the blacks away down in the South, 
who have summer all the year ’round and are sure of 
shelter and grub, and haven’t the ague chills creeping 
up and down their backs at work as we have.” 

“I’ve seen the sun shining prett}^ hot about here, 
and felt it, too,” said Tobe, “and I think you all have. 
At such times even a chill is pleasant to look forward 
to. The dreadful monotony of all sun is tiresome to 
think about, with chains and a goad into the bargain. ’ ’ 
“It’s as I said, Tobe,” said Klomp, looking around; 
“we can all find plenty to talk about more to our 
liking than the blacks, except yourself. ’ ’ 

“Nothing down at your place to interest you, Tobe?’ ’ 
queried Hiram Blank. “Wonder you can eke a living 
out at that business. ’ ’ 

Draque had been listening attentively to the con- 
versation and again came to the rescue, saying, “We’re 
a good-natured lot of fellows here, and being it’s you, 
Tobe, we’ll not fight.” He laughed outright while 
saying, “As long as nobody agrees with you. it’s hardly 
worth the while to wrangle with one man. 


46 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


Tobe saw that at present he could not arouse his 
companions to either a practical or fighting view of 
his subject, and reluctantly acknowledged “he was 
interested at home and maybe in a way that would 
not interest them.” He continued: “I raise pretty 
fair crops on my place now, and with the oxen and 
other cattle I find my barn too small, and have the 
timber almost ready for another. How would you 
like to come and give me a lift as soon as the weather 
opens up enough for it?” 

“We’ve no disliking at all for such news, Tobe,” 
said Klomp. “It’s the kind that makes things move 
about here. We’ll give you invitations enough to 
turn in and help before we’re through. There’s not 
a neighbor among us who hasn’t a job he’s expecting 
his neighbors to put his shoulder to. ’ ’ 

“And a few outside jobs. I’m certain of, ” said Hiram 
Blank. “If my eyes don’t deceive me there’ll be a 
wedding in the neighborhood soon, and the young 
couple will stand in need of a house. ’ ’ 

John Strand was being aroused from a semi-sleeping 
condition by a neighbor, who gently tickled his nose 
with the tip of a long blacksnake whip — a circumstance 
that added greatly to the mirth of the youth crowded 
into their accustomed corner, and from which corner 
such remarks as, “The Indians are after John again, 
look! They have him now,” could be heard. 

At last John, in a half-conscious way, sat eyeing his 
companions, when he was called upon to affirm the 
truth of what Hiram Blank said. With as much feel- 
ing as the most tender-hearted among them could 
command, John replied: 

“She’s all I have excepting the boys, and they’re too 
small to be the company she is. It’ll be the lone- 
some cabin without her. But if I had my picking I 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


47 


couldn’t find a better man than Steve; he’s going 
ahead of us all, an ox team is too slow for him. There’s 
no one about, young or old, that has a span of nags 
like Steve’s, and his own earning, too.” Then, as if 
trying to impress his audience that Steve was ahead 
of the times, he repeated, “The ox is too slow for him. ” 
“Slow, but sure, if you only keep after him,” said 
Klomp. “How do yours go, John?” 

“They go when John goes, Klomp, and ask no ques- 
tions, ” said good-natured Draque, who would like to 
help John out of trouble if he could. 

Tobias Lenk again ventured to remark, “He thought 
some people inclined to be set in their ways, and to 
think certain things simply because it was the fashion, 
or that the right of those certain things had never 
been questioned. And the worst feature about it was 
they didn’t seem willing to see any different way, 
even if others thought they could point that way out. ’ ’ 
“I see what you’re aiming at,” said Draque, “and 
every one who has a peculiar way of doing or thinking 
acts much after the same manner. They wonder why 
other people think this way, and that way, and the 
other way, always supposing they themselves are right 
and every one else wrong — eh, Tobe?” 

When Draque found he had full control of his breath, 
he continued: “Now let us come right down to the 
point, and suppose you are wrong and I am right, yet 
I let you alone and haven’t a word to say about how 
I think this question or that question should be settled. ’ ’ 
“That goes pretty far to prove you think, if you 
think at all about the matter, that it’s possible I’m 
right, or I wouldn’t give a fig for your friendship,” 
said Tobe. 

“Well,” said Draque slowly, “when it comes down 
to little family affairs, that would ’nt seem meddling in 


48 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE, 


me. I’d be plain enough. When I thought it was 
for your good, I’d say, Tobe, I’m afraid, if your will- 
ing to give your time and attention to matters that ’ill 
not plant the potatoes, or hoe the corn, or lay in the win- 
ter fire wood, you’ll find the pot ’ill stop boiling at 
home, and your own family ’ill not have the best of 
fare.” 

“I do a pretty square day’s work at home, Draque, ” 
said Tobe. “I’m not fearing it will come to that, but 
the great trouble with the people at large seems to 
be, when a man’s own pot is full and boiling he’s 
inclined to not look about to see the empty one at his 
elbow. I wouldn’t like to be so selfish as to not pick 
a man up and give him a bite if I found him lying by 
my door. ’ ’ 

“Oh!” exclaimed Draque; “if he was lying by jmur 
door, of course not. I’d pick that man up as soon as 
you would, Tobe, not caring whether he was black or 
white. ’ ’ 

“But let the man a few rods off lie there, ” said Tobe, 
smiling. 

“No, if I knew such a man was there I’d go after 
him as soon as any man living, and think nothing of 
it,” said Draque, 

“But if I multiply those few rods by hundreds, or 
thousands, you wouldn’t even have a wish to help him, ’ ' 
continued Tobe. 

“I’ll declare, ’ ’ said Draque, ‘ ‘you’re not as fair by me 
as I was by you. I agreed to come down to the point, 
and instead of keeping to the point, as I thought you 
would, that’s what I call getting away from it. You 
couldn’t pick up a man that far away if you would. ” 

“If he was lying on his back, as we described the 
man at your door, maybe not,” said Tobe; “but that 
is not just his position. He’s in a worse plight, and 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


49 


considering the way he needs help, I think we might 
help him in less time and with less trouble. ’ ’ 

In objecting to Tobe’s plan of setting the slaves free 
Draque was serious, not dreaming such would ever be 
the case. He evidently thought the duty of saying 
something still rested upon him, the more so as he 
did not feel altogether sure Tobe had not the better of 
him in the preceding argument, and still more the very 
silence seemed to point to him as the one to break it. 
Shifting his chair so as to view his hearers better, he 
proceeded to give his reasons why they should not be 
free. 

“I don’t believe in bothering about the slaves be- 
cause better men than we are put chains on them and 
believed they were in their place. Washington owned 
slaves and willed them to his relatives and their heirs 
forever, and I think none of us will set ourselves up. 
alongside of Washington for knowing more than he 
did, or to say what he thought was right is wrong, after 
as much as he did for us and the whole country. ’ ’ 

Ike was not with his young companions of former 
occasions, but had he been he would have agreed with 
his father exactly, for he had a very high regard for 
his father’s way of thinking, and was prone to think 
as his father thought, that the “blacks” were where 
they belonged. 

“Washington had his hands full, I can tell you,” 
replied Tobe. “Besides, he didn’t bring slavery here, 
and in his time there were other things to think about. 
They were all so deep in trouble they were glad to 
find their way out and be able to live, which was about 
all they could do. More than all that, the slave was 
nearer his master in those days and better treated. ’ ’ 

“I reckon a slave is a slave,” said Hiram Blank, 
“and how he could be nearer a master at one time 

4 


50 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


than another is something I think you’ll find it hard to 
make clear. ’ ’ 

“It’s very clear to me, although I may not be able 
to make you see as I do,” said Tobe. “Washington 
had at heart the good of his country and the liberty of 
his white brother ; he spent his life planning and fight- 
ing for both. These are peaceable times. Both Eng- 
land and the Indians have agreed to give us a rest, 
and slaveholders have taken advantage of the rest. 
They don’t need to bother about such things as they 
did in Washington’s time; they have settled down to 
work for their own private interests. I tell you, Hibe, 
when a man just has his own interests to think about, 
and settles right down to money getting, then look 
out! He becomes selfish like, and the man who was 
his brother in trouble is nowhere alongside the dollar 
he intends to knock out. More than all that, one 
great man couldn’t do everything good that was to be 
done ; he did his share and left the rest with us. If 
we do our duty some other great man will turn up 
and do for the slave what Washington did for us. 
There is no use denying it, Hibe, people are beginning 
to wake up to the belief that one man has no right to 
own another man like an ox. ’ ’ 

“Well,” said Hibe, “it’s my opinion there are very 
few waking up to the belief, and the day is a long way 
off when the nigger will be free. You mustn’t think a 
few hotheads in the country are going to turn things 
upside down like that. ’ ’ 

“Being this is earth, and not heaven,’’ Tobe con- 
tinued, “it is but reasonable to suppose there will 
always be suffering enough that can’t be avoided. But 
I would be long sorry to add anything to my posses- 
sions that was wrung from the earth through the labor 
of a fellow man, who got nothing for his labor but 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


51 


blows and enough to eat to enable him to keep at it. 
This is what I call fair. The man who toils to pro- 
duce or fashion should have a better recompense than 
blows ; he should be free to do as he pleases with what 
he earns by the sweat of his brow. ’ ’ 

Draque looked at Hiram Blank and asked, “What 
do you sa}^ to that, Hibe? Tobe’s letting his horse 
run away with him tonight. ’ ’ 

“I say,” replied Hibe, “that those same blacks 
wouldn’t toil if they didn’t have to; they’re a lazy 
lot. ’ ’ 

Tobe glanced at Hiram Blank’s soft hands and then 
at his own, seamed and hard. He then looked around 
at the hands of those who were dropping their hard- 
earned pennies intoHibe’s coffers and called attention 
to the fact “that it was labor that was enriching Hibe, 
and that labor not his own, as his hands were soft, and 
his head didn’t look like the head of a man whose braiti 
was overtaxed with work. ’ ’ 

Klomp shook his head very hard and said; “It won’t 
work, Tobe. I like fair play. If there’s anything 
wrong about the way Hibe gets his money, you and I 
are guilty as he is. ’ ’ 

Neighbor Draque seemed to overlook Klomp ’s re- 
mark, and with a hearty laugh, said ; 

“Hibe, you may as well own up. You must file in 
with the lazy lot who’ll not work if they don’t have to. 
How would you like the whip on you — eh?” 

The laugh was general, much to Hiram Blank’s dis- 
comfiture. He manifested his disapprobation, and re- 
sented the fancied insult with a twitch of the muscles 
about the mouth that differed very much from the 
movements of the same muscles in the faces of his 
patrons. He had his own interests too much at stake 
to kick them all out, but if ever one of them presumed 


52 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


to give him the same provocation John Strand had 
often given him, he would very soon show him he was 
not to be trifled with. 

Klomp was not altogether satisfied with the turn 
things had taken and said : 

“It’s not just the square thing, Tobe, to say un- 
pleasant things about the man who’s roof shelters you 
so often. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ In trying to prove or disprove one thing by another 
where we see a similarity, we sometimes say things in 
an unguarded moment that it’s hardly fair to hold one 
accountable for, ’ ’ said Tobe. ‘ ‘ Hibe stated a case, and 
a similar one appeared before me unsought. I’m a 
little too hasty sometimes. I’ll admit.’’ 

“Draque arose, looked first at one foot and then at 
the other, commenced straightening out the rim of his 
old hat, and other little maneuvers, all of which indi- 
cated he was about to depart. 

“Draque is always off first,” said Klomp, apparently 
satisfied with Tobe’s apolog}^ “I often thought I’d 
astonish him and the rest of you and the folks at home 
by starting out first some night myself.” With a 
shrug he continued, “I haven’t managed so far, but 
I’ll do it yet.” Then turning to John Strand, he 
asked : 

‘ ‘ Did you ever think of astonishing your folks that 
way, John?” 

John nodded his head, but made no reply; which 
was his accustomed way of settling troublesome ques- 
tions which did not refer to the wigwam and the man 
who once occupied it. 

Draque, not caring to become entangled in further 
conversation, stepped out. Tobe again made some 
remark that savored of slavery. Hibe, still boiling 
over with indignation to think he had been in any way. 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


53 


even remotely and jokingly, compared with the slave, 
spoke out: 

“Look at the money those slaveholders have put in 
the blacks. How are you going to get about that? 
You can’t compel a man to sell his property if he don’t 
want to, and you can’t take it from him without paying 
him, I reckon. When I hear men prating about what’s 
not possible I feel like bidding them good-night.’’ 

“Like putting them out, why didn’t you say, Hibe?” 
queried Klomp, who, seeing how wrathy Hibe was still, 
continued: “It’wouldn’t take Draque long to settle that 
question with you in a pleasant way. I’m sorry he’s 
not here.” 

“Draque is shoring by this time,” said Hibe, “so 
the question is far from being settled. ’ ’ 

“This same question reminds me of a crowbar, and 
an iron one at that,” said Klomp, addressing Tobe, 
at the same time settling himself more comfortably 
with a view to staying longer, “with one end here and 
the other down South. This is the cold end and the 
other the hot end. You know the heat and cold run 
along the bar. The half way place where the heat 
and cold blend is the most pleasant place to think on — 
eh, Tobe?” 

“Either that or hands off,” replied Hiram Blank 
curtly, not giving Tobe time to reply. 

Away down in his heart Tobias Lenk felt sick, for 
even he did not see how the problem was to be solved. 
But he felt more certain than ever he was right, and 
more determined than ever that while he had life he 
would never lose an opportunity that would tend in 
the least to bring that right about. He now felt his 
mission for the evening was completed at Hibe’s. He 
had done for the cause all a solitary individual could 
do in the short time. He had agitated until others 


54 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


began to think ; others who, unlike him, had thought 
altogether about things nearer home, and would prob- 
ably never have ventured so far away had they not 
been led or forced, in the mild sense of the word, to 
discuss or talk about topics in which they considered 
themselves not in the least concerned. Tobias Lenk 
understood that agitation, or expressing one’s honest 
convictions, does in the moral world what motion does 
in the physical: brings about great changes for the 
better. 

He now prepared to go, and, not wishing to be at 
enmity with those who opposed his views, remarked 
“that he would not like to be the cause of any ill 
will existing between himself and his friends, as all hQ 
had aimed at was to express to them his idea of right. ’ ’ 

The apology was forthwith accepted, and all bade 
each other a friendly “good-night,” and dispersed. 


CHAPTER VI 


Jabez was responsible for intimating to the neigh- 
bors that railroads were coming in fashion. They had 
for some time enjoyed the luxury in the East. Those 
in the East worked well, and it was a certainty the 
part of Ohio known as theirs would possess one in the 
near future. Whether it would interfere with them 
or not, they did not know, but they supposed it would 
come pretty close. The question under discussion re- 
garding it was, “If it runs through our midst, whose 
•farm will it cut through, and who’ll get a slice taken 
off his house, already small enough?’’ 

Tobe, Jabez and Peggy had gotten thus far with 
the evening chat when the rat-tat-tat at the door caused 
a little stir. J abez opened the door to welcome Draque, 
and Peggy busied herself putting a chair in a com- 
fortable place. After Draque had rubbed his hands, 
smiled on them all around, and exchanged the “good- 
evening, neighbors, ’ ’ she proceeded to give him a lec- 
ture for not bringing Mrs. Draque, “who had never 
been to see her since she had gotten into her new 
house.’’ All of which Draque took in perfect good 
humor and “allowed mother was so happy in her own 
new kitchen she couldn’t be moved out. ’’ 

Many were now the proud possessors of the frame 
addition called kitchen, so perfected that it could be 
used as such at all seasons, and Draque was one of 
that number. Others had new houses out and out, 
and invariably the old cabin stood a few rods away, a 
goodly reminder of past days. 

Among those fortunate ones Jabez was numbered. 

55 


56 ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 

How he managed with his large family to get a little 
ahead of his near neighbors in the possession of this 
world’s goods no one appeared to know. Draque 
worked every bit as hard, and was as good a manager, 
and Mrs. Draque was second to none in looking after 
household affairs. It must not be overlooked that 
tending the dairy, raising geese, ducks and chickens 
for both home consumption and a far away market 
came under the head of housekeeping. 

Draque “allowed the staying at home all the time 
couldn’t build a house for Jabez; besides that same 
was something Jabez didn’t do, for he called on him 
often, and the other neighbors at times, barring Hibe. ’’ 

In fact, the only fault Draque had to find with Jabez 
was — “He didn’t treat Hibe square; he didn’t like to 
see the spirit in a man that inclined him to set himself 
against a neighbor. Of course he wouldn’t expect 
him to spend his evenings at Hibe’s like the rest of 
them if he didn’t want to, as he understood full well 
that tastes differed; but he’d like him to show his 
face there sometimes in order to manifest his goodwill 
to all men. ’’ 

The general sentiment concerning the new railroad 
was: “The land is plenty, there’s no stint, but the 
houses are few and far between, and if it wouldn’t 
discommode the projectors of the great scheme much 
they would like them to run their road in a way that 
wouldn’t interfere with them.’’ 

“We were talking about the railroad, Draque,” said 
Jabez. “How would you like the big engines pranc- 
ing through your place?” 

“I wouldn’t object to them capering through the 
corn field or even the potato patch, but I think mother 
would raise a row if they’d meddle with the kitchen,” 
replied Draque. 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


57 


“Anyway, it will be a sight to see,” said Peggy, 
“and I think it will tend to stir us up a bit. ” 

“We don’t want any more stirring up than we’re 
getting, Peggy,” said Jabez. “Again, a man has at- 
tended to all that’s to be done on a hundred acres, he 
doesn’t care much for any further stirring.” 

“That’s so, Jabez,” said Tobe, “no one knows bet- 
ter than I do how a man has to keep at it. But I 
think we’ll derive an advantage from the road that will 
tend to lighten our labor; we’ll not have to haul our 
produce so far to market, and I think if we could push 
what we raise through to the East we’d mebbe get 
along better. ’ ’ 

“We’ll now have a chance to lay to and pile up cord 
wood, and if that doesn’t stir a man up I don’t know 
what will. What say you, Peggy?” said Draque. 

“I know well enough the big engines we read about 
will consume a great deal, and it appears you’re about 
to get what you’ve long wished for, you and Jabez, a 
market for timber, ’ ’ replied Peggy. 

“Yes,” said Draque thoughtfully, “although the 
price it will bring will be nothing compared to the Old 
World price we often talked about, we may be better 
satisfied with it than the smoke it’s all going out in.” 

Draque, not having put the new and old house out 
of his mind, feeling uncomfortable probably when not 
visiting Jabez beside the old time fire place, turned to 
J abez rather abruptly and said : , 

“I’ll SAvear, Jabez, if I were you, I’d as soon have 
them riddle the new house as to lay hands on that old 
cabin. ’ ’ 

“The north end is sinking a little,” said Jabez, 
“and as I’m not trying to keep it in repair it will soon 
go down, but while there’s a log of it standing Til look 
at it with pleasure; it served us well for a longtime.” 


58 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


Peggy, proud of the new house, cast a lingering 
look in the direction of the old pile, where so many 
happy, hopeful years were spent. Not a crack or 
crevice in the wall but was sacred to some memory of 
the past. 

The cabin that called forth the remarks was almost 
hidden away by the early blooming lilac. The snow 
drop closely hugging the wall, and the honeysuckle 
clambering high up over the white drops filling the 
whole place with sweetness. And at a more remote 
distance, by cherry and peach tree, orchard and vine ; 
all bowing perpetual thanks to Draque’s north lot, 
that from early infancy till now let in upon them 
God’s glorious sunshine. 

Tobe shifted about in his chair, and endeavored to 
clear his throat with a short cough, whereupon Draque 
made the way clear by saying : 

“When the railroad question is exhausted we’ll hear 
from Tobe, according to his method of entertaining. ’ ’ 

“I’ll let you think, and talk as you please this 
time,” said Tobe, “for I see you are all too happy to 
bother with vexed questions. When one man has a 
new house, and another a brand new kitchen, they’d 
like to enjoy them, and not have other men’s woes 
piled in on them. ’ ’ 

“There’s a good deal of truth in that, Tobe,” said 
Jabez, “but the average man has a soft spot in his 
heart after all, and when a neighbor drops in, who 
loves to dwell on the woes of the human family, he’ll 
find everybody here ready to oblige him by listening. 
So go ahead, Tobe, but I’ll just remark before you get 
started, ‘Every good thing that was ever yet accom- 
plished existed at first in the brain of one great man 
or another. ’ A woman sometimes comes out first ; 
isn’t that so, Peggy?” 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE , BUCKEYE. 


59 


Jabez went on laughing, now turning the conversa- 
tion exclusively to Draque, “But, poor things; since 
the world began, they’ve always had to take the short 
end of the crowbar; which wouldn’t suit you, Draque, 
especially if you were in a hurry. ’ ’ 

“She’s often expected to lift pretty heavy weights, 
too,’’ too, said Draque. 

“She is,’’ said Jabez, “but the long end of the lever 
belongs to man ; she must be satisfied to do the best 
she can with the short end. ’ ’ 

“I think that’s complimentary to the women,’’ said 
Draque, quite seriously. “It shows that we men have 
a very high opinion of what women can do with little 
assistance. ’ ’ 

“It shows that you men are selfish, that’s what it 
shows,’’ said Peggy, with a disdainful toss of her 
head, “and it’s a lasting disgrace to men who have the 
making of laws to make them so completely in their 
own favor. ’ ’ 

That Draque had something further to say compli- 
mentary to the women, Jabez had not a doubt, but not 
wishing to arouse Peggy to any greater extent than 
the present found her, said: “Hold up, Draque, this 
is not giving Tobe the hearing we promised him;’’ 
then turning to Tobe, Jabez said: “It’s rather up-hill 
work, isn’t it, Tobe, this trying to interest people in a 
subject they’re not willing to be interested in, after 
the manner you would like?’’ 

“Yes,’’ broke in Peggy, who was still not quite 
composed, “and the whole people compared with the 
few are oftentimes like a flock of sheep, or a herd of 
cattle.’’ 

“You couldn’t have said it better, Peggy,’’ said 
Tobe, who faced Jabez and Draque, saying: 

“I’m not comparing in any way but the one, re- 


6o 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


member, and what I’m trying to get at is this: both 
yon and Draque might be willing to go the right way, 
but you don’t exactly see the way — now that’s your 
position, and this is mine, I can’t call myself a leader, 
for there’s no one following me, but I’m after them, 
speaking in reference to others, as well as yourselves. ’ ’ 

“Yes,” said Draque, “like the dog after the cows 
Peggy was talking about, nipping first one, and then 
the other, till he gets them all on the right path. If 
that’s your plan, keep at it, Shep never fails to bring 
them all home, eh, Tobe?” 

“I know,” said Tobe, “the one who is following up 
has a great deal of nagging to get all started right, 
and it takes a good bit of nerve, and a will to keep at it, 
in the one who would accomplish that same. But I 
don’t feel myself alone, many a one I talk with in 
those parts, while they don’t acknowledge it, meet me 
half way. ’ ’ 

“The neighbors wouldn’t quarrel with you, Tobe,” 
said Draque, laughing, “and that may have more to 
do with the half agreeing than you think.” 

“I feel I am right, anyway,” said Tobe, “and that’s 
a spur that’s not going to let me stop right here. ” 

“I’ll declare,” said Jabez, “you must feel the spur 
pretty keen when you feel you are just right, and all 
the rest of us wrong, for the fact of a man being this, 
or that, Tobe, doesn’t always prove he thinks he is 
right and everyone else wrong. For instance, a man 
may join this, or that, church, which only goes to 
prove he has a preference for the one above the other, 
and you or I may never know the cause of that prefer- 
ence ; nor will he think it necessary to bother much 
about letting us know. He’ll not drop in to say he’s 
right, and you are wrong, but he’ll say both your re- 
ligion and his are good. Brother Klomp reads his 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 6 1 

Bible, and is a Methodist, our brother across the way 
reads his, and is a Presbyterian, and you read yours, 
Tobe, and don’t exactly agree with either of them.” 

“Mebbe the man that reads his Bible oftenest is 
nearer right than the others,” said Draque, “if that’s 
how it stands, Jabez is away ahead of the rest of us. ” 
“There isn’t the same certainty about some things 
there is about others, that’s sure,” said Tobe, “but, 
leaving all that out of the question, there are some 
things that are positively right, and others as positively 
wrong, just as some things are true, and others false. 
They tell me those who are teachers, and away up in 
mathematics, say all the angles of a triangle are equal to 
two right angles ; and have proved again and again in 
measurement that the perpendicular is always equal 
to the base into the tangent of the angle at the base. 
All of which they can prove clearly to those that are 
used to their way of reasoning. According to their 
way of doing things, they will also sh6w you that every 
part of the circumference of a circle is equal distance 
from the center. Now, that last is something a man 
of sense can look right at, and see for himself, yet, 
after seeing, and being convinced, he may not be able 
to prove it to his neighbor according to any rule under 
the sun. But what’s true of the circle, doesn’t need 
to de demonstrated to a man of sense by a professor. ’ ’ 
Draque who stood somewhat in awe of the learned 
gentleman said: “No, don’t bring in a professor, Tobe, 
he’d blind us with big words, and we’d altogether 
lose sight of what’s plainly before us. ” 

“I see what you’re aiming at, Tobe,” said Jabez, 
“you and Draque, and myself, don’t need any other 
circle than a cart wheel set before us to see right 
through the last named truth of equal distance. ’ ’ 
“Yes,” said Tobe, “the armful of spokes I threw 


62 


ISAAC DRAQUK, THK liUCKEVE. 


there in the mnd, not having further use for them, are 
not going to vary the hundredth part of an inch, eh, 
Draque?” 

“They’ll not vary a whit,” said Draque, “ and it 
seems folly to send the lads off to college to learn on 
fine blackboards what you could point out to them 
with your stick, in the mud — barring there’s something 
in this, that every man can’t point out as well as you 
can, Tobe. ’’ 

“Nor everyone see for the pointing as well as you, 
Draque,’’ said Tobe, glad to be able to show apprecia- 
tion for the little ground gained. Draque ’s opinion of 
all the neighbors was at par with his opinion of him- 
self, if not above, and he answered : 

“There’s not a man among the neighbors that 
couldn’t see the truth of that same, once it was shown 
him, and mebbe have seen it for themselves often, 
but, like me, didn’t stop to think.’’ 

“Plain people, like we are, reason something after 
this manner,” said Tobe, “the same thing that is true 
of the muddy cart wheel, is true of all circles, whether 
great or small. ’ ’ 

“We take it in with the eye without any reasoning 
about it,” said Jabez, “and see it as plain as if some 
one had been explaining it to us for a lifetime. ’ ’ 

“Yet, until your attention was called to the fact, 
mebbe, like Draque, you didn’t think about it at all,” 
said Tobe. 

“I haven’t much time nor the inclination to bother 
about such things at present, it’s a fact,” said Jabez. 

Tobe continued : ‘ ‘ Our good friend the crowbar is a 
thing the philosopher takes hold of and shows what it 
can do in proportion to the length, I believe ; but, not 
knowing anything about the right length and figures 
according to philosophy, we can size up what it can do 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


63 


as well as any one. I’d put you and Draque alongside 
of any of them to know the length of the crowbar you 
could best stir a big log with. ’ ’ 

“Yes,” said Draque, “ and I’ll wager that, long before 
the philosopher thought of the crowbar — or lever, is 
it you call it? — plain men like we are used it to remove 
obstructions. But I’ll declare if I can see what all 
this talk has to do with the slavery question. Mebbe 
you’re hammering at something else this time — eh, 
Tobe?” 

“You forget,” said Tobe, “that I was trying to 
show yourself and Jabez there is a positive certainty 
about things being right and wrong as well as true, and 
untrue, which can be plainly seen once one goes to the 
trouble to find out. I’m apt to get mixed up a bit in ex- 
plaining, for I don’t understand how to explain things as 
well as many another man. But I’ll come to it yet; 
it’s like this. It takes learned men to arrive at some 
truths, while other truths — like the circle and crowbar 
— are so plain that we can take them in with a glance. 
And just so with right and wrong. The wrong we can 
see like a flash and no reasoning about it is the kind 
plain men see through, and mebbe understand sooner 
than those who have to go through a process of rea- 
soning before they come to the truth. Now, like 
you see the truth about the circle and crowbar, I see 
the wrong in slavery. ’ ’ 

“If you see the wrong in slavery as plain as we see 
that all the spokes of the cart wheel are the same 
length, I don’t blame you for sticking to it, Tobe,” 
said Draque, laughing till his sides shook. “And, if 
you could set them all free tonight, Jabez and I will 
promise you that we’ll not interfere.” He grew seri- 
ous a moment and said: “But when a man can’t do it, 
Tobe, where’s the use making himself uneasy about it?’ ’ 


04 ISAAC DKAQUE, the BUCKEYE. 

“He may hope,” said Tobe, “that in the course of 
time his neighbors will see as clear as himself that it 
should be done. It’s this way, Draque — what some 
people can’t see at a glance like the truth of the circle, 
they can see after repeated showing, and when that 
time comes they’ll wonder they hadn’t seen it before, 
it ’ill be all so clear.” Tobe continued: “Now, what 
I’m trying to do is to put a lever in your hands, a good 
long one, and show you it is right you should take 
hold. I’ll go around and invite this neighbor and that 
neighbor to help, much as we brought them around 
to put a hand to the ax and crowbar that cleared away 
the forest and left us the open fields. And the longer 
the lever, and the more help to take hold, the less 
trouble and time to clear away the logs — eh, Draque?” 

“Yes,” echoed Draque, always alive to attending 
strictly to his own business, “provided you don’t have 
to cross into the next lot. ’ ’ 

“I understand you,” said Tobe. “You mean, after 
a certain length you’re likely to get a crowbar too 
long.” 

“Yes,” said Draque, “that’s what I mean exactly.” 

“Your experience is altogether with a certain kind 
of lever, Draque, and in that direction you’re a mas- 
ter; but there are other levers beside the wood and 
iron with which things may be turned over as com- 
pletely. The lever that stands waiting for us to lay 
our hands upon now is the ballot, and I want you to 
take hold with me, Draque. You and Jabez, and re- 
member I wouldn't ask you to lay hold with me if 
my conscience didn’t loudly say to me, ‘You’re right, 
Tobe.’” 

No word of reply came from his listeners. Jabez 
was evidently in doubt as to whether he should step 
outside his radius or not, and Draque, who was ever 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


65 


ready to good naturedly say something, was mute. 
While the careless and uninterested must admit that 
Truth and Justice are very long as well as very lasting 
levers, and are often out of sight of the common ob- 
server, who has enough within the limits of his own 
small circle to occupy his mind ; but when a man or 
two who happen to aim higher than the crowd sights 
them and takes hold, the course of things can be 
changed in a wonderful manner, and sometimes with 
apparently little effort on the part of those who began 
to agitate for the love of the Right they saw. For 
Truth and Justice are God’s levers, and the man who 
takes hold with the right spirit is sure of God’s help, 
and with that help is going to give wrong a tumble. 

The selfsame watch dog that had long guarded the 
Ghent household turned beseeching eyes on his master 
for probably the hundredth time in his life. The 
sound of the ticking clock, to which the inmates of the 
same household had been oblivious for nearly two 
hours, came clear and distinct, and from the direction 
of Draque’s home came the mournful too-hoo of the 
night-owl. All combined aroused Tobe and Draque 
to thinking of the homes to which they were individ- 
ually pledged. They bade Jabez and Peggy “good- 
night, ’ ’ and together went out in the moonlight and 
starlight, on their way to that dearest of all spots — 
home. 


5 


CHAPTER VII. 


Aside from the hardships incident to the times and 
their occupation, things moved smoothly with the set- 
tlers for some time. But one evening in early sum- 
mer, when the clover was sweetest and the dark green 
robe of nature had not yet begun to show signs of 
decay — in its prime might be said of the forest’s garb, 
as well as of the crops man was bringing from the 
fair young earth his toil had prepared for production 
— the news was told in every cabin “how little Amanda 
Draque was sick, not going to live, somebody said. ’ ’ 

Throughout the whole place attention was at once 
turned t o the Draque homestead. It was evident 
every one was stricken, as well as those nearly con- 
cerned. Neighbor after neighbor hastened to the 
spot, and many a one ventured to express a hope that 
all would be well at last. Neighbor Draque and his 
wife watched the little one tossing upon her bed of 
fever, and hoped with the least encouragement given 
by their friends; but it was all no use. Notwithstand- 
ing care and sympathy, Amanda died. Her mother 
was disconsolate, and Draque, whose face till now 
always wore a smile, with his rough hands dashed 
away great tears that, in spite of his trying to be rec- 
onciled and “bear up before mpther,’’ would force 
their way. 

A new duty was now involved upon the neighbors — 
that of “laying out’’ a burying ground, which here- 
tofore had not been thought a necessity by more re- 
mote neighbors, who had taken their dead to a distant 
place. 


66 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 67 

As Draque had been the first bereaved after a home 
burying ground had been decided upon, it was thought 
proper to mark off a part of his place for that purpose. 
In doing so they consulted his feelings and reasoned 
that “Draque would feel more as if he had Amanda 
at home than to have her buried in another man’s 
ground. ’ ’ 

They had kept death from them as long as possible, 
but it was now evident he was a guest for whom they 
must prepare, and, not wishing to place the whole 
burying spot upon Draque, after consultation decided 
that Jabez, whose farm joined, should give the half, 
which he did without complaint, for he said, “The 
whole spot is small and could be easily spared by any 
of us.” All were willing to give, but did they come 
to a place where four lands joined, such place would 
be removed from wagon roads and inconvenient. The 
ground between Draque and Jabez was therefore set- 
tled upon, and, after Amanda was laid at rest, the line 
fence was torn down and the place enclosed. 

After the funeral Draque was very subdued, for, 
although rough in manner, he was extremely sensi- 
tive, and his roughness was oftentimes the overflowing 
of the best intentions. But now so much of his heart 
was in the grave he spoke in a lower tone and offered 
his services in the most gentle manner. Heretofore, 
when he had been in the most rollicking and joyous 
moods all he loved best were comfortably enclosed 
between the walls and under the roof of his cabin. 
Now his heart must go out to a lonely spot where one 
of the fairest of the family circle was resting. A short 
time before he knew the spot only as a part of his 
cleared land, where the grass grew thickest and the 
songbird loved to dwell. In viewing it now he thought 
of the hereafter and the Father in heaven who took 


68 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


from him his lovely child. He mourned Amanda so 
long it was feared “he never would be himself again. ” 
He was often seen dropping his crowbar, or rake, or 
whatever farming implement he might be using, and 
crossing the fields he would pensively stand viewing 
the little grave. At last he conquered, and to all out- 
ward appearance was the same whole-souled Draque. 

Amunda’s death was felt even at Hiram Blank’s. 
When the neighbors returned for the first time after 
the funeral, their expressions were thoughtful and 
their tones low — exceeding low for such a place. To- 
night neighbor Klomp looked around at his friends 
and said: 

“We needn’t expect to see Draque here tonight; 
he takes the death of that child very hard. ’ 

“Yes,” said Hibe; “a man wouldn’t think such 
trouble would stick so tight to him. He always takes 
everything that comes so well I didn’t think anything 
could so upset him. ’ ’ 

“He’s never had any real trouble before, as I know 
of,” said Klomp, “and I wouldn’t wonder but this 
will lay him up altogether. ’ ’ 

“It ’ill not lay him up only for a time,” said Tobe. 
“He’s not the kind that’s going to sneak out of active 
service when trouble overtakes him. But with his 
heart sore for the one gone, he’ll bravely push ahead 
for those that are left. It may be he’ll not feel like 
dropping in here with the rest of us for a while, and 
in many other little ways like that it may tell on him, 
and I think that same is to his credit. But he’ll not 
let the weeds grow in the cornfield or the rake rot in 
the meadow, and when the time comes he’ll not leave 
the fallow unturned, you may depend upon that. He’s 
a tender-hearted fellow, but brave enough to push 
ahead. ’ ’ 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


69 


“I d hope to see him out of his trouble and around 
soon,” said Klomp, “for it seems the backbone has 
fallen out of this place without him. ’ ’ 

“This place doesn’t depend upon a solitary indi- 
vidual for backbone,” said Hiram Blank. “However, 
I’m as anxious to see him out as any of you; he was 
among my first friends when I came here. I always 
liked him, and if I’d picture old times, Draque would 
have to be there — times when it was a little harder 
for me to be independent than it is now. ’ ’ 

Hibe looked around upon his patrons and failed to 
see a smile, or cheery look, as upon all other occa- 
sions. It was evident he was in the same thoughtful 
state himself, and anything like old time jokes, and 
argument, absolutely out of the question. 

When death breaks in upon those who are not daily 
familiar with its trappings; who for months in and 
out had not seen a corpse ; to whom the coffin and hearse 
are unfamiliar sights; where there are no slabs or 
monuments, not even the little mound, to remind 
them where all must end, it produces an impression 
not likely to be understood by those who seem to think 
they know the meaning of all those things so well. 
Being too familiar deadens the effect, and makes death 
a thing of not too great importance. With such, bury- 
ing the dead is a duty involved upon the living, which, 
in charity they perform, sometimes as thoughtlessly 
and matter of fact as they turn over the leaves of their 
account book, or leave their order at the grocers. It 
is often only to the bereaved that death has much sig- 
nificance. 

Draque, now, more than ever, began to find com- 
fort in the society of Jabez, whose nature was better 
suited to give soothing words of comfort than many 
another of his friends. 


70 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


Neighbor Draque never doubted the existence of 
God, and the sublime destiny of man, but it was with 
these truths much the same as with the circle and the 
lever; he did not stop to think much about either, un- 
til he was overwhelmed, and there was no way out 
but to hopefully submit to the Wisdom that, for our 
greatest good, both gives and takes. 

Faith, Hope and Charity now found a soil in his 
heart, the better cultivated for the harrowing of sor- 
row’s teeth that had entered so deeply; just as the 
strong, sharp teeth of the harrow pulverizes and pre- 
pares the soil of the wheat-land. And he who had 
always been the plain, good neighbor, was evidently a 
better man, when at last resigned, he left Amanda in 
her grave, and stepped forth with unbounded confi- 
dence, and with a brighter hope than had ever shone 
upon his path before. 

’Tis hope that lightens the heart, strengthens the 
arm, and removes the keenest pain ; extends a ray of 
its light to the most lowly and destitute, and gives a 
glow of sunshine to all nature. Were it not for hope, 
what happiness would illumine our pathway here be- 
low? What enterprise would ever be undertaken, were 
it not for that cherished hope that animates to a 
greater or less extent, every living soul. Where is the 
dungeon that contains a criminal so abandoned that 
hope never enters his heart? 

The grave, surrounded by all that, to the unthink- 
ing, would seem to discourage, is the scene of sub- 
limest hope; where all that the occupant had been 
long familiar with is calmly put away, and the eyes 
closed, not in darkness, but to clearer vision. Draque 
was always hopeful. From the day he commenced the 
hard task of clearing his forest farm, the neighbors all 
knew he never gave up to discouragement. Through 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


71 


all his life the darkest spot he had yet arrived at was 
the little grave, and, because it was so dark, it took 
him longer to see the light. But, after repeated visits 
to the grave, and heartrending struggles there, after 
prayer and Bible reading with Jabez, the light came 
that chased away all gloom, and shone around the 
whole enclosure, Draque said, “with enough left to 
fill his heart. ’ ’ 

It was not till then the neighbors pronounced 
Draque “himself again.” But, although himself, 
there was always after a something in him better than 
before that he was conscious of, though the neighbors 
might not happen to see. The impression made by 
the hard blow of death, although healed, had sunken 
too deeply to not leave its mark. Since Amanda’s 
death, the neighbors had all “dropped in,” with words 
of comfort. Jabez had called several times, for, upon 
his leaving, Draque had always asked him so implor- 
ingly to “drop in soon again,” that he called as a con- 
soler often. Draque had often said to Jabez, it would 
seem apologizingly, “that mother all along aypeared 
to bear up better than he did. ’ ’ 

Tonight he found in his heart a wish “to give Jabez 
a call. ’ ’ He must have thought about going through 
the day, for he ran the wagon into the shed, put forks 
and rakes away, and fastened the barn door more 
securely than was his wont, as he turned to the cabin 
for his evening meal. He did not forget that, should 
there come up a storm, all those little things could not 
be done, and he calling upon a neighbor. At the sup- 
per table, he said : 

‘ ‘ Mother, how would you like to cross the lots with 
me tonight, to see Jabez?” 

“I’d love to go and no mistake,” said mother. “I 
haven’t been to see Peggy in her new house yet. I 


72 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


thought about going for long enough before Amanda 
took sick, but always found so many odds and ends to 
be done up about the house I never got started. ’ ’ 

Without noticing what his wife said, Draque con- 
tinued: “Awhile ago I thought I’d nev«r find it in my 
heart again, to care about leaving the place, or to visit 
anyone. But I’m satisfied now that Amanda wouldn’t 
be where she is, if it was in God’s plan for her hair to 
grow gray.’’ He fixed his eyes on Mrs. Draque and 
said: “You always faced trouble braver than I did, 
Mother; mebbe I’ve been unreasonable, but I couldn’t 
see my way out sooner. God may have taken that 
way of bringing us nearer to Him, eh, mother? when 
we think Amanda’s with Him.” 

Mother’s tears for Amanda now fell thick and fast, 
and she who had often tried to console Draque, wept 
bitterly, feeling there was no longer occasion for her 
to hide her tears when “father was resigned. ” Draque 
turned from the supper table, and faced the west win- 
dow. The clouds were piling mountains high, and the 
setting sun had burnished them with gold. Only a 
rim of the great orb was in view ; he had seen it rise 
in a similar way in the morning when he was “about 
the chores;” he had bustled around lively all day, and 
with the setting sun his day’s work was done. Al- 
though he had watched the sun rise and sink in the 
same way often, during those long years, it never had 
the same wonderful meaning for him before. He sat 
gazing intently, not on the setting sun that was now 
lost to view, but on the piling and rapidly shifting 
clouds, not noticing how Prince raised his ears, and 
held his head up a little, as if trying to catch a sound. 
Mother’s eyes were dry, and she, too, with folded 
hands, sat looking out of the window, when one sharp, 
quick bow-wow from Prince startled both. 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


73 


Draque turned toward the door, and Jabez, notwait- 
ing’ to rap the second time, nor for the ceremony of 
having the door opened, turned the knob and stepped 
in with Peggy, when they knew they were always wel- 
come. 

Mother and I were thinking of going over to your 
place tonight,” said Draque, “but we’re both glad 
you saved us the trouble. ’ ’ 

“We thought you might be lonesome, ’ said Peggy, 
“and, although it looks like a storm, we ventured out, 
feeling certain we’d get here before the rain fell, and 
once here, we’re safe.” 

“You forget that we’d like to get back tonight, 
said Jabez; “the children wouldn’t be just 
contented if we were storm-bound. ’ ’ 

“No fear of that,” said Draque, shaking his head; 
“those storms that come up quick are soonest over; 
they’re the kind that level the corn, and blow down 
trees, but we’re safe indoors, the old cabin has stood 
many a one. ’ ’ Draque stopped, drew a long breath, 
and then said: 

“We always gathered the children in when we saw 
the storm coming, mother and I — but now Amanda 
doesn’t come for the calling, and while I’m in the 
house with the rest of them, I see the trees bending 
down in the wind over there, and the lightning seems 
sharper there, and the thunder louder, but it can’t 
hurt her, I know, for I’ve left her with God, Jabez — 
satisfied as you told me awhile ago I would be at 
last. ” 

It was wholly out of Jabez ’s power to say a word in 
reply. He who had always found it so easy to talk to 
Draque could not say a word ; his mission was com- 
pleted. He had long known Draque, and held him in 
high esteem, but he now realized he had a greater 


74 ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 

soul than even he had thought, and with bowed head 
he sat, leaving him alone with his thoughts. 

The shifting clouds had united in one compact mass, 
blacker than the darkest night, which the lightning at 
short intervals made resplendent for the moment, 
then, with the darkness, came the thunder, indescrib- 
ably loud, with nothing intervening to break the cur- 
rent of sound. The tree-toad and katydid had hid 
themselves away. The hoot-owl was mute, and the 
coon had sought his nest in the hollow tree without a 
supper. Not a voice arose from the earth, not even 
the sound of a barking dog in the distance to take the 
attention in a small degree from the thunder of the 
breaking clouds. The big engine would not whistle 
past for hours, and no rumbling of coming wheels 
would break in upon the sublimity of the storm. 

Jabez looked out the window through the darkness 
toward the north lot ; but the north lot, with its logs, 
and virgin crop of corn, was a thing of the past — 
when the lightning came a meadow met his view. 
The long grass rising and falling as the wind swept 
over, might remind him of the waves of the ocean, 
minus the treachery of the latter, strewn with the 
bleached bones of so many, who, less successful than 
his father, put out for land from some overcrowded 
port, in vessels not storm-proof, and went down for- 
ever. Whatever the scene might suggest, he said 
nothing, but looked, and looked. 

“Does Tobe ever call around at your place, Jabez?’’ 
asked Draque at last, in the old time way. 

“He does, ’’ replied Jabez, “he was there the night 
before last, wasn’t it, Peggy,’’ and, being assured it 
was, went on: “He’s been asking about you, and I 
wondered he hadn’t dropped in. ’’ 

“He was here twice, or three times, of late,’’ re- 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


75 


plied Draque, “but it was early in the evening; 
mother said he appeared in a hurry and couldn’t wait. 
I’m sorry I missed him every time. I had some odd 
jobs to do about the place. The fence was getting 
bad at the far end of the farm, between Klomp and 
me, and I thought I’d fix it up a bit before harvesting 
came in. ’’ 

“He’s a busy man now,’’ said Jabez; “his conscience 
lays it upon him to put himself about a good deal more 
than the rest of us. ’ ’ 

“I suppose,’’ said Draque, “he still bothers himself 
about the black man. ’ ’ 

“Yes,’’ said Jabez, “he doesn’t let up on it a minute, 
with all the discouragement there is about the question, 
he’s at it harder than ever he was, and not a bit baffied. ’ ’ 

“I’d wish him luck in everything he’d undertake,’’ 
said Draque, “but I’m still as doubtful about the luck 
he’s to have in that direction as ever I was.’’ 

“Well,’’ said Jabez, “although I’m not as positive 
in my views opposing Tobe as I was some time ago. 
I’m afraid he’ll have a long road to travel before he 
sees the end of it, if he ever does. But, I tell you, 
Draque, if a man has any selfishness in him, talking 
to Tobe awhile has a tendency to take it out of him. 
On this point I’m in with Tobe, and not without seri- 
ous thinking : I believe every man should do the best 
he can to promote universal good. ’ ’ 

“That’s true,’’ said Draque, “ and the man who has 
had great trouble himself, and has been helped to bear 
it, ought to be the first to offer help to another, if he 
only knew how to go about it. ’ ’ 

“Tobe’s trying hard to teach us all how to doit,’’ 
said Jabez, “and if he doesn’t succeed I’m sure the 
fault will not be his. ’ ’ 

Mother and Peggy had been enjoying a quiet chat 


76 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


by themselves, when Peggy, aroused by the lateness 
of the hour, and the condition of the fields she had 
crossed awhile before with such perfect ease, now in 
places mud and in others long, wet grass, said : 

“Jabez, I don’t see what we could have been think- 
ing about, to have started out tonight with the pros- 
pect of a storm before us — anyway what I could have 
been thinking about. You can manage well enough 
with your boots on, but what am I to do?” 

“I’ll loan you mine,” said Draque, jumping to his 
feet as if shot. ‘ ‘ I have a pair lying about somewhere. ’ ’ 

“Yes,” said mother, hunting the boots while Draque 
sat down, “come whenever you can; don’t stay at 
home for a storm. I’ll find you a pair of boots. ” 

Equipped with boots, Peggy faced the inconven- 
iences the late thunder storm left in its track ; all the 
while thankful for the blessings that came hand in 
hand with the inconvenient. The air was balm laden, 
the coolness invigorating after the sultry day, her gar- 
den in its glory, and the tubs and barrels at the eaves 
filled with the freshest soft water, . fresh from the 
clouds. She was certain there had been no mingling 
with any of the impurities of earth before it reached the 
tubs that held it, to be used at her will. The road home 
was too hard a pull for them to be able to devote much 
time to talk. So in silence they walked along, the 
one keeping pace with the other with the splash into 
a mud-hole, that, in spite of the looking and trying to 
steer clear, they were into before aware that one was 
near, well as they knew the road, and often as they 
had traveled it before. Not until they were safe at 
home did Jabez say: “I’m glad we went tonight. 
I’ll feel better for sa whole week, after having 
heard Draque ask for Tobe, and try to get up any- 
thing like his old interest in things. ” 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


77 


Peggy replied, with all the earnestness in her: “You 
couldn’t feel better than I do about it, splashed and 
covered with mud as I am, for the venture. ’ ’ 

Thus closed another day, well begun, in the Ghent 
household. The light was put out, and the stars that 
for ages kept watch over the abode of man, looked 
down unobstructed by intervening clouds. 


CHAPTER VIII. 


John Strand’s purse completely empty, no credit at 
Hiram Blank’s, and no one willing- to loan him the 
necessary funds, were the only forces that now could 
be counted upon to restore his reason and make him 
at all resemble the neighbor who in better days dropped 
in upon his friends feeling they were glad to see him. 

At such times he appeared to realize his misery and, 
the first torture over, tried to throw off the chains, 
which in the face of the trying he never seemed able 
to do. Probably it was because he had so little help. 
Every one thought it was something he ought to be 
able to do of himself. Tobe was all absorbed with the 
chains of the black slave and had the plan of his life 
work spread out before him, which was so overtaxing 
there was not a possibility of his ever seeing the enor- 
mous slavery that in its infancy was being fostered 
under his own eyes and with his full approbation. 

When John was for the time thus crippled finan- 
cially, the neighbors would remark — well-meaning 
enough, too — “They believed John was beginning to 
see his position, and if he didn’t carry himself straight 
after all that’’ — whatever the “that’’ may have meant 
according to their ideas — “they’d take no more stock 
in him. ’ ’ 

All of which we pardon them, as it was not fully 
demonstrated at the time, at least to them, that alcohol 
produces effects upon the human system over which 
the will has no control. Prisons were being erected 
throughout the state for those like John Strand who 

78 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


79 


could, but would not, go straight. Their massive doors 
were swung on hinges proportionately strong. The iron 
bars were solidly built into the wall, and every pre- 
caution taken to prevent the exit of those that— for the 
public good — it was deemed necessary to place behind 
them. Taxes were levied upon plain neighbors— 
Klomp, and Draque, and Tobe — for the erection and 
maintenance of said prisons. It is but fair to say 
Hiram Blank came in with his share of the tax, which, 
owing to his accumulated possessions, was pretty steep, 
and in consideration of which the state took him under 
her proteetion; making no distinction whatever be- 
tween the men who, with brain and musele cleared 
and dug, and built and developed, and the catch-penny 
who stowed himself away from the inclemency of the 
weather, with one eye on his stock in trade and the 
other on his neighbor’s pocket. 

The evil was now augmented to an enormous ex- 
tent, for to become gentlemen became' the desire of 
many, judging from the number who, through sheer 
admiration of Hiram Blank’s soft hands and fat purse, 
took possession of riekety little tumble-down places to 
pose as Hibe had— not equal to the task of grappling 
with the forces nature had put in their way, and 
which, by the very law of self-elevation, every man 
must overcome or fall by the way in manly endeavor 
before he has won an honest man’s place in the battle 
of life. This evening Klomp stepped into Hibe’swith 
the usual smile upon his face, with which he always 
greeted a friend, and the remark; 

“I’m like the pendulum of the clock on the shelf 
there, Hibe, always swinging back and forth. ” 

“That’s right,” responded Hibe. “I like to see men 
keep stirring. ’ ’ 

“How does it come you’re so quiet here tonight?” 


8o 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


said Klomp. “Those benches cut sorry figures with 
no one on them. ’ ’ 

“It’s early in the evening yet; besides, it’s a busy 
time with the people, whether on farm or garden. I 
don’t expect it to be as stirring as at other times,” 
said Hibe. 

After about fifteen minutes’ quiet talk between Hibe 
and Klomp, Tobias Lenk appeared, whereupon Klomp 
started out with the remark : 

“I’m afraid you’ve missed your mark tonight, Tobe. 
It’s hardly worth your while to talk to empty benches. ’ ’ 

“I weighed the matter before starting,” said Tobe 
earnestly, “and concluded every one wouldn’t be so 
tired that this place would be entirely empty. The 
weather is never so bad and the muscle of the place so 
done out but that you can count upon meeting a friend 
or two here. You see I’m right, my audience consists 
of Hibe and yourself. I sometimes feel like talking 
to just one or two, and am suited exactly. ” 

Not giving Tobe further chance for remark, Klomp, 
though evidently a little “riled” about something, 
began jokingly: “Our fathers thought they’d feel lost 
in this country, with neither lord nor noble to doff 
to; but I think it’s tip-top their children are doing — 
they’ll soon be lords and nobles among ourselves. I 
tell you, the like of some of us to haul in the dollars 
that’s going to purchase all requisites for such quality, 
is amazing — not that I’d care a whit for such myself; 
but it adds uncommon to the dignity of a place to 
have such fine people living in it. ’ ’ Looking straight 
at Tobe, Klomp continued: “Hibe there will soon be 
driving his coach -and-f our, with his footman in the 
rear and all other necessary appendages, as big as 
any of them. ’ ’ 

Hibe had an attractive way of doing things at times, 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 8l 

and gathered in the money for the drinks with an 
air that plainly said: “As long as you’re fool enough 
to give me your money I’ll be willing to take it.” 
He voiced a little of his feeling, saying : 

“It’s the fashion where I came from, and you seem 
to be all happy on account of my introducing it here. ’ ’ 

“So far we’re all happy enough but John,” said 
Klomp. “I called around there yesterday and he’s 
pretty badly used up. ’ ’ 

“It’s his own fault, ’ ’ said Hibe indignantly. “When 
a man doesn’t know when to stop it’s time to kick 
him out. ’ ’ 

“Don’t be too hard, Hibe,” said Klomp. “You 
never kicked him out with his pockets full, I’ve no- 
ticed. You have the little he got together in better 
days to your account, and he has what he took in 
exchange for it. ’ ’ 

Klomp was a little wrathy over the manner Hibe had 
ejected John Strand the night before. He, with other 
neighbors, often blamed but never abused J ohn. With 
his acquired faults, as they looked at it, they stood 
nobly by and never lost sight of the John who lived a 
neighbor among them, honest and good, and with 
whom they felled the forest side by side before Hiram 
Blank sought a home among them. Hibe, not wishing 
to provoke Klomp to saying anything further concern- 
ing John, said: 

“The sooner we drop unpleasant subjects the better. ’ ’ 

“I reckon you’ve a show now, Tobe, ” said Klomp. 
“Hibe may think your subject a more interesting one 
than the one we’ve just let up on.” 

“I don’t give it up,” said Tobe laughing, “but that 
I’ll be able to make him see what the square thing is 
yet. He may be a stubborn sort of a man, but I don’t 

stop for that. ’ ’ 

6 


82 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


“Aside from believing the black men are where they 
belong,” said Hibe, introducing the subject he knew 
was sure to come, “you couldn’t persuade me they 
could be purchased, and it’s not the amount of money 
it would take to buy them that staggers me; for I 
don’t think the owners would accept any amount, and 
for this reason : they would be hardly able to invest 
it in a manner that would be as lucrative. And with 
men that have a great deal, even more than with those 
that have a little, it’s the dollar that tells. There- 
fore, I concluded long ago that, right or wrong, no 
such thing as freeing the black man would ever be 
brought about. ’ ’ 

Tobe and Klomp bade Hiram Blank “good-night” 
earlier than usual. In spite of repeated efforts con- 
versation flagged. Klomp remarked to Hibe, “As 
there wasn’t as much life there as Tobe liked, thought 
he was getting uneasy.” He then proposed to Tobe 
“that he would take him out for an airing,” to which 
proposition Tobe readily assented, and picking up 
their hats both started. Once outside Tobe said : 

“Klomp, don’t you think it early in the evening to 
make for home? Suppose we drop in on Jabez and 
see what they’re about there. ” 

“All right,” said Klomp, “nobody ever found me 
anything but agreeable, especially when the thing pro- 
posed is just to my liking. ’ ’ 

Accordingly they wheeled around and stepped out 
briskly in the direction determined upon. 

“I’ve often wondered,” said Klomp, coming to a 
halt suddenly, “if there could be such a thing as poetiy^ 
in an old fogy like me. But, let it be what it may, 
the moon and stars up there, and the soft air on my 
bald head, has a wonderful effect after the sultr}^ day, 
to say nothing of the voices of the little living things 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


83 


that are talking in their own way all about us. ” He 
had bared his head during the remark, and both he 
and Tobe now stood contemplating the scene. 

“I dare say,” replied Tobe, “there are more poets 
than are ever heard from if feeling the Something one 
would love to describe just as he feels it, for the benefit 
of those who might have missed, is poetry. When a 
man looks upon a scene like this, and something is 
impelling him to proclaim it is all the gift of a Father 
in heaven, and that the black child may be as much to 
him as the white, what he says is poetry, Klomp, 
whether it rhymes or not. ’ ’ 

“Mebbeitis, ” said Klomp, with a serious look on 
his pleasant countenance, at the same time placidly 
covering his bald head with his well worn hat; “but 
the kind that takes my ear has the jingle. However, 
let that be as it may, Tobe, if we want to see Mr. 
Ghent before his door is closed for the night, we’ll 
have to move on. ’ ’ Both, intent upon reaching their 
destination, walked on without further comment upon 
scene or living thing. 

“Well,” commenced Klomp, upon the door being 
opened for them, “this is the place tonight minus 
the drinks, but Tobe and I can stand that. ’ ’ 

Draque was among the guests at Mr. and Mrs. 
Ghent’s who called an hour earlier than Klomp and 
Tobe. He eyed them with a quizzical glance and 
laughed outright as he said : 

“I think there’s a substantial reason for your stand- 
ing it.” 

“I wouldn’t wonder,” said Jabez, looking up in sur- 
prise, “or they would have been here before. ” 

“We tell no tales out of school, do we, Tobe? So 
it will be all thinking and wondering, and nothing- 
sure about it, ’ ’ said Klomp. 


84 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


Peggy was going through certain well-known per- 
formances with churn and dasher, scalding and pour- 
ing out water preparatory to filling the churn with 
cream, when Tobe asked, “Do you never get tired, 
Peggy?’' to which she replied: 

“I don’t feel just as sprightly as when I began the 
day, but think I’ll manage to put the churning past 
me. You see, Jabez is to have some help with the 
harvesting tomorrow. I couldn’t well get at the 
churning sooner, and thought it too long to keep the 
cream over a day. ’ ’ 

“We’re in for keeping you company then,’’ said 
Klomp. “Tobe and I didn’t come this distance to 
turn right back. Tobe has been on nettles for some 
time because he hadn’t a chance to talk sense, as he 
calls it. Here he is, with Draque, Jabez and myself, 
and not minding the time we’ll let him have a chance. 
What say you, Peggy?” 

“You’re all welcome to stay. I’m sure, and you 
know it without asking, ’ ’ said Peggy. 

“I believe you’ve half a mind to side with Tobe — 
eh, Peggy?” said Draque. 

“I side with him entirely,” said Peggy, “and did 
from the first. ’ ’ 

“Oho! that’s news to me, I thought Tobe was alone 
in those parts.” After eyeing the churn as if he 
never saw one before, Draque continued: 

“I have no objections to raise to the bettering of 
things as we go along, but I think with mother that 
some things are too bad to mend. We threw out an 
old pot this morning at our house that many a dinner 
was boiled in, and many a good one, too. I thought, 
mother would like to mend it and so would I, but after 
turning it over and looking at it twenty times, we 
both concluded it was too far gone. And I think, 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 85 

Tobe, you’ll have to do about the same thing with this 
ere slavery question. ’ ’ 

“There’s considerable metal in that old pot, Draque, ’ ’ 
said Tobe, “and I haven’t a doubt if it was put in the 
right hands there would be a new one made out of it.- 
He who keeps pounding away is going to fashion some- 
thing, and that something will be much after the idea 
he has in his own mind. ” 

“We can’t be so certain of that,” replied Draque, 
with a mischievous look. “For instance, if Peggy 
had the idea of making headcheese out of that churn 
of cream, I reckon she’d have to hammer a long time 
at it. I can see as well as another man how some 
things are fashioned after a man’s ideas. I can put 
a field in shape for a crop as neat as any one, and 
many another thing about the place I fashion accord- 
ing to my own mind. But what I’m trying to get at 
is this, and you all know it as well as I do : There are 
some things men can’t do, and however wrong those 
things may be, and however well we might like to 
bring a change about regarding them, we might just 
as well not bother. That’s the stand I take regarding 
the slave in the South.” 

“I’m just with you,” said Klomp. “I believe 
had slavery been nipped in the bud, or had a slave 
never been brought or sold in the country, it 
would have been a good thing; but now that it is 
where it is, I don’t see that anything can be done to 
check it.” 

‘ ‘ I reckon Tobe sees himself, ’ ’ said Draque, laugh- 
ing, “that it’s a little harder to make black white than 
it is to make white black. I have twenty sheep over 
there and among them one black one. Mother, with 
a little logwood and copperas, could in a short time 
make the nineteen white fleeces black; but if I handed 


86 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


in the black fleece for her to make white, she’d think 
I’d gone clean crazy. ” 

“I see,” said Tobe; “but you’re dealing with black 
and white, while I’m dealing with right and wrong. 
My case may not be as impossible as you’ve tried to 
paint it, and no matter how distant the time may be 
when right will take the place of wrong, every fair- 
thinking man should be willing to push in that direc- 
tion. ’ ’ 

“That’s true, Tobe,” said Peggy encouragingly, 
still churning away, with now one hand on the dasher 
and then the other. “Don’t be put down by them. 
No one can tell what persistent stirring up will do 
with a people. ’ ’ 

“Peggy well knows motion is a wonderful creator 
of new things out of old, provided one has something 
to work upon,” said Jabez, smiling and watching the 
motion of the dasher as Peggy banged away at the 
cream soon to be butter. “And this continual batter- 
ing away at something, to produce something else, by 
determined, well-meaning people, is not all going for 
nothing. You’re right, Peggy.” 

“Of this I’m certain,” answered Peggy. “On all 
sides we notice those only are complete failures who 
are not determined enough to keep pushing. ’ ’ 

“That’s so,” said Tobe. “This stepping around 
from place to place in order to keep a thing in motion, 
although the majority at first ma}^ laugh, will prove 
in the course of a few years the very thing that has 
brought about a complete change in the state of 
affairs.” 

“I think I can get an inkling into your meaning, 
Tobe,” said Draque, not a bit inclined to be serious; 
“but I’m a homelier man and do things in a plainer 
way. What you mean to tell me by all that was said 


ISAAC DRAQUK, THE BUCKEYE. 


87 


is similar to this: The milk and cream Peggy has 
there in the churn would remain milk and cream and 
never be butter did she not set it in motion with the 
dasher. ’ ’ 

“Yes,” said Tobe, “and keep that motion up till 
she saw the hard butter. ’ ’ 

“You’re right about the cream never being butter 
without hard hammering,” said Jabez; “but if Peggy 
left it there until the elements saw fit to work with it, 
it would soon be turned into swill, and we might throw 
it to the pigs. So you’re a little off the track, Draque, 
when you said it would remain milk and cream. ’ ’ 

“That’s just the point,” said Tobe. “The good 
God leaves many a thing in our hands for moulding 
into better things, but we must work with the oppor- 
tunity and no lagging. ’ ’ 

“I see,” said Draque, still in a joking mood. 
“Twenty strokes of the dasher wouldn’t do much 
good and mebbe two hundred wouldn’t, that you or I 
could see; but Peggy ’ill keep at it until we’re obliged 
to acknowledge that continued motion does a great 
deal. I have a high regard for Peggy and won’t be 
outdone in speaking a good word for her. ’ ’ Draque 
laughed, certain that, if he was doing no good, he was 
not intending to do harm. 

“Well,” continued Tobe, addressing Draque, “as 
you oppose, and still admit, we may be allowed to 
imagine we have an intelligent South Sea Islander 
among us that knows nothing of the art of butter- 
making. He might laugh at Peggy’s persistency and 
call her a freak of nature. ” 

“Yes,” said Draque, with a tremendous smile, “and 
if a whole community of them were at hand they 
might feel like putting the freak in a safe place where 
she would be sure to do no harm ; for that same churning 


88 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


process is anything but graceful, and, judging from 
the maneuvers, they might think the freak dangerous. 

“Let Draque go ahead,” said Peggy, as she care- 
fully raised the churn lid to examine. “I’ll not shock 
him much longer with ungraceful performances — the 
butter is here ready for the gathering. We’ve been 
friends too long to take offense at anything Draque 
might say. Besides, I believe he has the gift of seeing 
plainer what’s under his eyes than the rest of you, 
that’s all. ” 

“He may have that gift, Peggy, but he doesn’t care 
to look more than two rods ahead, ’ ’ said Tobe. 

“That’s because I can take in so much in those two 
rods that the rest of you don’t appear to see,” replied 
Draque. “I don’t see the sense in ransacking the 
universe for an example to illustrate what motion will 
do when Peggy here at my elbow, with churn dash in 
hand, is as convincing an argument as you could find 
the world over. Besides, you all know it’s compli- 
mentary to Peggy I’m intending to be.” 

“I know,” retorted Peggy; “I’ve had a taste of 
your compliments before. ’ ’ 

“Draque always had the way about him of killing 
two birds with the one stone,” said Jabez, laughing. 
“I’ve known him since he was a lad, and have never 
known it to fail him. ” 

Tobe sat for some seconds saying nothing, with 
fixed eyes yet looking at nothing in particular. At 
last he said, accompanying his words with a shake of 
the head : 

“It doesn’t do to* be always joking, Draque. By 
rights there are some things too serious to admit of 
jokes, and it’s a pity you fellows can’t see it.” 

Something, either in the seriousness of Tobe’s atti- 
tude or speech, produced a more serious effect upon 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


89 


his listeners than had been hitherto effected. All the 
pathos of the earlier evening came back to Klomp, 
and he felt in his heart malice to no man, not even 
the black man. 

Draque looked out at the moon sailing through the 
white clouds with which it was surrounded, and some- 
thing touched his soul akin to peace after perfect resig- 
nation. He had felt the same touch before when he 
left the little grave saying, ‘ ‘ Thy will be done. ’ ’ 

with ladle in hand, vigorously dove after 
the lumps of butter she was placing in the bowl pre- 
paratory to washing. Jabez could see the moon, too; 
he looked for a while in silence, then began : 

‘ ‘ This continual change of place is a wonderful crea- 
tor, it’s a fact; but I notice things don’t change as we 
would like to have them of themselves. For instance, 
a cabin never rose about here that we didn’t have to 
build, and there’s no butter made in this house that 
Peggy doesn’t churn. I think with Tobe as we look 
out into space and see how one thing succeeds another, 
we see how God is doing things on a grand scale, pre- 
cisely as we are doing things on the small. I think 
we must therefore conclude that we are placed here 
to keep up that ^ motion that will tend to bring about 
the best results.” Jabez hesitated a moment and 
then continued : “I felt that from the first regarding 
my own premises, but I’m willing enough now to 
acknowledge a man ought to step outside to give a 
lift when he can. ” 

Treetoad, katydid, and cricket took up the refrain, 
and sounded their approbation with such delight that 
garden and fields were filled with the sound, when 
the three men, thinking of home and the harvesting, 
bade Jabez and Peggy “good-night,” and hurriedly 
went their way. 


CHAPTER IX. 


Notwithstanding the drawbacks, Ike became an able 
lawyer. In seven years after leaving his home of 
logs he was as fairly upon his feet as any young man 
in the Buckeye state. 

One would think his busy life and many hardships 
would leave him neither time nor inclination to indulge 
the tender passion. But all along the picture of Meg 
was before him. He never lost sight of the pleading 
blue eyes and winsome face. He never saw anything 
homely or commonplace about the cabin that was her 
home in childhood. To him it contrasted favorably 
with the new house so much more comfortable and 
imposing, and even with the fine houses he had seen 
of late. The days he had spent in the log school 
house where Meg was were the happiest of his life, 
and the evenings around the fireside cracking nuts 
and eating apples with Meg, and listening to Jabez 
and Peggy talking about what they had been reading 
in the papers and books, were more delightful than 
any he had since known. 

Peggy took care her children “didn’t grow up wild. ’’ 
What Meg lacked in accomplishments she had in sound 
sense. It is true her education was wholly restricted 
to the district school. She had an exquisite appre- 
ciation of the beautiful nature had spread in such lavish 
profusion around her, and through childhood had 
tripped along gathering wild flowers, with heart at- 
tuned to praise the Bounteous Giver, and the echo of 
her joyous voice came back to her from the hillside, 
as she sang His praise. The echo that came back, like 

Qo 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 9I 

the sound sent forth, was not always in set words, but 
it was the outpouring of her happy soul none the less, 
in unison with and innocent as the birds that sent 
forth their songs of praise on all sides. 

But childhood is swift passing, and girls grow up to 
step out from the happy homes of their girlhood. Meg 
was the oldest, and somewhere must she find a home, 
and a means of providing for herself — for the younger 
children were filling her place, and it would never do 
to sit idly down, depending upon her father for sup- 
port. She felt, too, that she would like to lessen her 
parents’ burdens if she could; she saw they were 
growing old. So she offered, and her services were ac- 
cepted, as school teacher in a place that in those times 
was thought quite remote from home. There are 
some people on this big earth of ours, so good and 
lovable, that, upon knowing them, we feel at once 
we will be the happier in Heaven for having met them 
upon earth. When the sin, and misery, and care of 
life weighs us down, the remembering those angels is 
sweet recreation. If fancy adds touches to the already 
beautiful, what matter? 

Meg was Ike’s angel. He had often and often 
thought about her during his college days, and “law 
learning,’’ and she was always the same winsome 
Meg. But now he was beginning to be more serious, 
because his seriousness was based on the knowledge 
of his ability to provide for her. He asked himself, 
“would she care about him as he thought she used to, 
and would he ask her to leave her country home and 
try her fortune with him in the big town. ’ ’ Care 
about him were words hardly large enough to satisfy 
the craving he felt. Had the child’s and young girl’s 
liking for him developed into anything like love in the 
woman, as he felt his early liking for her had so de- 


92 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


ve loped in him? A great thump of his heart told him 
it might not be. 

He resolved to leave the office, and “the law” for 
an indefinite time in the hands of the lawyer, now his 
partner ; who years before took him to carry and pile 
the back-logs on the office fire, lift the ashes, and 
numerous other things, in recompense for the knowl- 
edge of law he expected to impart to him, and journey 
to his home — the home he had visited several times 
since his first departure with ax upon his shoulder. 
But he never experienced such heart throbs upon any 
other occasion. When asked, “would his visit be long, 
or short,” he simply replied, “it would depend,” and 
yet he never fairly said to any of his questioners, upon 
what it would depend. 

The railroad was not a “bee-line” from the town to 
his father’s house, nor could he change cars conven- 
iently where the road did not reach, and make it on 
another. The stage coach was his hope for several 
miles of the route — the well-known and well-worn 
stage coach, not unlike every other stage coach of the 
time, with the driver in his own right hand corner, and 
its pair of heavy horses stepping along at their accus- 
tomed gait. The coach pulled up alongside the plat- 
form when the train came in, and Ike stepped out at 
once for his destination. The passengers were not. 
jostling and pushing to make room — of that there was 
plenty. He, and an elderly gentleman seated oppo- 
site, were the sole occupants of the coach. His com- 
panion was an exceedingly intelligent looking man, 
and Ike did not have to look the second time to be sure 
he was a stranger in that part of the state. He was 
of medium height, slightly inclined to the portly, and 
reminded Ike a little of his partner, for whom he had 
so mucli respect. 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


93 


The coach pulled out of the little station, with its 
waiting room and half dozen houses. On and on, the 
wheels rattling over the plank road, and the woods on 
each side becoming more dense, as the road between 
the coach and the station was lengthening. The 
mournful too-hoo of the owl, along with the appar- 
ently early gathering twilight, called forth an intense 
feeling of loneliness in Ike, who already felt he was 
alone. His companion appeared to him a keen ob- 
server of the passing scene, as well as of the man 
in his presence. As they rode along he pointed out 
the grandeur of the massive, as well as the delicate 
beauty of the smallest of nature’s productions, in 
which they were sometimes immersed — above, be- 
neath, on all sides, luxuriant growth. In places the 
tree tops almost met. They towered so high on 
either side that the opening above seemed a speck, 
while the wild rose, and grape, vied with each other in 
climbing their brown trunks. The nearer roadside 
was thickly carpeted with grass, that the roadside cow, 
although numerous, had not kept in trim order. At 
times his companion eyed him with severe scrutiny, 
nervously tapping his foot on the floor of the coach, 
then, drawing a long breath, he would look out of the 
window — away off. Ike felt certain he was not look- 
ing at anything he could see, and, casting his eyes in 
the same direction, saw an opening, and the red rays 
of what appeared the setting sun, but he knew it was 
a delusion, caused by the forests, and one his com- 
panion might not be familiar with. It must yet be a 
full hour before sunset, as they would And when they 
came to a clearing. Besides, his companion’s eyes 
were not raised so high — he was evidently gazing at a 
picture in his own mind. 

“I understand you at last,” was Ike’s soliloquy; 


94 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE liUCREYE. 


“what we keep from the outside world is the most 
absorbing part of our existence. You and I are 
friends, your picture cannot be more beautiful than 
mine. Talk to me now, if you will, and you will find 
me in sympathy with every feeling you possess.’’ 
The stranger turned his head, and, with a deliberate 
tap, tap, of his foot, sat looking awhile at his com- 
panion again, and then asked, “Are you interested in 
politics, young man?” 

“Yes, somewhat,” was Ike’s slow reply. Although 
he had given politics some attention it was not the all 
absorbing question with him now. 

“Did you ever vote for a president?” came the 
query. 

“Yes, once,” was Ike’s short and deliberate answer. 

His companion now seemed aroused to a state of in- 
tense interest as he put the question : 

“On which side?” 

“On the big side,” replied Ike, with a triumphant 
smile; then he assumed a look of disappointment, as 
he began to feel he did not understand his companion 
as well as he had thought. Their pictures were cer- 
tainly different. Again his head was turned, and the 
man looked out of the window ; his picture was very 
far away, but it was as absorbing as if it was before 
him. 

The coach was now nearing Ike’s destination, and 
he prepared to step out, when his companion said : 

“I’m sorry to have to travel the rest of my journey 
alone; I’ll be in your town on important business be- 
fore long, and would like to feel that you are my 
friend. ’ ’ 

They grasped hands and there was something in the 
grasp that told each he might depend his life upon the 
other. Ike alighted, with traveling bag in hand, and 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


95 


slowly sauntered along. He stopped to look after the 
stage coach ; something probably told him his after life 
would have a great deal to do with its sole occupant. 
He listlessly rested his elbow on the stump of a broken 
tree, hummed a tune, whistled another, and possibly 
lived a part of his bo3diood days while so doing; then 
as slowly resumed his journey, which now was short. 

There was no great preparation being made for Ike, 
as he was not expected home, but the look of surprised 
gladness on every face amply repaid him for the lack 
of preparation. The surprise, hand shaking and hug- 
ging over, he began at once to inquire about the health 
of each, and satisfied all were well at home, extended 
his inquiries to the neighbors, asking for one, and 
then another, as the name might come into his mind, or 
the face before him. But, strange enough, he omitted 
the name of the very one he came in quest of. His 
motive for so doing no one may be presumed to know ; 
it may be pardonable to suppose, however, that he 
preferred to hear the answer to that inquiry from her own 
lips, and maybe she would say, she was glad to see him 
in a way that would enable him to read his future. He 
might also have hoped Meg vrould be able to read in 
his eyes and manner his more than friendty interest in 
her. The stage coach, with its one passenger, did not 
reach its destination for about two hours after Ike last 
sighted it. Twilight had come and gone, shutting out 
the passing scene from the lone traveler, and gave him 
ample time to associate Ike with many a plan for the 
future, that had long been shaping in his mind, but 
which were now only beginning to be developed. His 
meditation ended with the conclusion: “He is a fine 
sensible fellow ; no snobbery in him on account of his 
advantages, and I’ll vouch for it, he is a man who will 
not turn his back on duty no matter how hard. If I 


96 


ISAAC DRAQUR, THE BUCKEVE. 


could get him to see the present existing evil I would 
have an ally that would be a tower of strength ; from 
head to foot he is the picture of robust health, and 
such a mind inclined in the right direction, combined 
with the vigor of young manhood is as good as a thou- 
sand bayonets. The force of his superior intellect 
would turn the whole state into the right way of think- 
ing.” 

As Ike soon learned, the only thing that broke the 
monotony of their quiet, plodding life at home, was the 
death of little Tim, Winnie’s brother. He had always 
been a sickly child, and although in his fifteenth year, 
exceedingly small, and was known far and near as 
“little Tim. ” 

“Mother,” said Ike, “I think I’ll go over to John 
Strand’s; the neighbors will be calling, I suppose.” 

“Yes,” said his mother, who was proud of “her 
boy,” as she still called him, and anxious to let the 
neighbors see how handsome he was, “they have no 
stint of callers since he died, nor while he was sick, 
for that matter — it would be the poor care his mother 
could take of him without the neighbor’s help. ” 

Ike started on his way, and walked along half mel- 
ancholy, half happy. Every sound brought up mem- 
ories of other days; his unselfish nature could not 
glory in his own prospects without a lingering re- 
gret for the shadow that was falling upon his old 
home. His father, though still hale and hearty, was 
perceptibly changed, and deteriorating somewhat from 
the rugged man who always took the heavy end of the 
log in the same north lot he was now crossing on his 
way to John’s. The katydid he had often tried to 
imitate in boyish delight held carnival alone, and from 
the neighboring pond, he had so often pelted with 
stones, and of which he felt himself master in every 


ISAAC DRAQUE^ THE BUCKEYE. 


97 


way, came the doleful croke of the frog. The sough- 
ing wind through the few remaining trees of the 
cleared lot, said to him the end of all is death. He 
could not chase the echoes from his soul. He had 
heard the same before, and every sound was cheerful, 
a delightful mingling of peace and love. But now, 
the very time when his mission was love, such phan- 
toms; was it a foreboding that his future must be 
dark? 

However, his thoughts did not cause him to quicken 
his pace. He walked on as leisurely as if he had been 
contemplating the most delightful; he accepted all 
things with manliness — was too brave to shrink from 
the disagreeable because it was such. Besides, dis- 
agreeable could hardly be the word, for he felt a soul 
enlargement, a reaching out to something such as he 
had never before experienced. 

He was now at John’s cabin — the old falling down 
cabin. He stopped to look at the place. The end 
was sinking, he said under his breath. “But the 
north end always goes down first — the sun never getti 
at that bottom log. ’ ’ The chinks that had been put 
in years before to keep out the wind and storm, had 
fallen out in places, and gave the rain and snow a 
chance to go through. 

“It’s astonishing,” said Ike, “how long those cabins 
will stand without a peg or a patch before they do 
tumble down. ’ ’ 

But thoughts about the outside of the cabin van- 
ished from his mind when once inside, not that the 
inside contrasted so favorably with the outside as at 
once to drive distress out of the door, but there in 
almost the center of the room lay “little Tim” in his 
coffin, and John lying on the floor beside it, drunk. 

Winnie had married Steve and left some years be- 
1 


98 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


fore for a home even a little farther west, and had not yet 
arrived to comfort her worse than widow mother, who 
sat beside the coffin a picture of distress. 

Ike, after looking thoughtfully at the child’s face, 
heaved a deep sigh and spoke to the mother. Then 
looked at the figure on the floor, not with pity but 
indignation, and, stepping to a seat beside the wall, 
gave scope to his thoughts. There came not a thought 
that would tend to excuse a man who could so forget 
his duty to those depending upon him. In his big 
warm heart he could feel no such emotion as sympathy 
for John. He with other neighbors watched the night 
through. At early twilight he took his last look at 
the child in the coffin and left. The melancholy sounds 
of the evening before were hushed, and in their stead 
the joyous songs of birds. Every twig and branch 
of the great trees were quivering in the still morning 
with the weight of tiny songsters, as they hopped 
from branch to branch. 

The morning lengthened and the sun began to ap- 
pear — the rising sun that gladdens the heart of man 
as well as bird, and is typical of the resurrection, glori- 
ous after a night of gloom. The effect was irresistible, 
and Ike’s heart again is light. He is conscious of no 
wrong doing, remorse is not gnawing; he is young, 
with bright prospects, and cannot wear sorrow as a 
garb — it is a generous impulse that comes as occasion 
demands. His contemplation with regard to the night 
before would now take form of a similai kind. 

“The child is dead, his mother can take the better 
care of herself, and as for John, he ought to be kicked 
out of the place. He’s a disgrace to the whole com- 
munity. ’ ’ 

Upon his return home Ike was met at the door with 
a welcome smile from his mother. He had not for- 


ISAAC DKAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


99 


g'otten all the little paraphernalia of country homes in 
the morning, and asked : 

“Where is the milk bucket, mother?” 

“Oh, we can milk without your help, Ike,” said his 
father. “We’ve been long enough at it.” Ike hesi- 
tated and looked around for the bucket. 

“If for old times’ sake he’d like to try his hand at it, 
give him the bucket, mother, ’ ’ said Draque. 

Ike took the offered bucket from his mother, and, 
whistling a soulful air, walked to the barnyard. It 
was a time he was to have altogether to himself to 
think about Meg. As he singled out the cow he was 
to milk, and tried to balance himself upon the one- 
legged stool, low words of a love-song took the place 
of the air he had been whistling. At breakfast he 
learned without asking that Meg was away from home, 
which was an uncommon occurrence for any one to be 
out of the neighborhood ; at least unless the few who 
were favored, as he had been, with the opportunity of 
receiving a higher education, with the privilege of 
chopping cordwood for their board. 

The ice once broken, Ike could not let the oppor- 
tunity slip of learning all he could about Meg, espe- 
cially as he had no longer hope of seeing her and feel- 
ing he would rather hear the news from his own mother 
than to inquire of the neighbors, asked : 

“Meg not home? Where is she?” 

His mother told him the story of “how she had 
been teaching school at the other side of the county 
for some months; that she had been an uncommon 
smart girl, and the Yankee schoolmaster was so good 
she went right straight ahead, and now thought she 
was able to take care of herself,, being as there were 
so many at home younger. ’ ’ 

Ike at once determined upon how long he would 


100 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


Stay. He would spend a few sociable days at home 
and with the neighbors. He would write to Meg and 
let her know he was home, and how disappointed he 
was upon not finding her there. He would ask when 
she would be home, that his next visit might not be 
a disappointment, and probably he would say some- 
thing more that would not concern the inquisitive, 
however well it might interest them. 


CHAPTER X. 


Jabez and Peggy, hearing Ike was at home, decided . 
to call at neighbor Braque’s, and the same evening 
found them rigged out in their best in honor of Ike, 
bobbing along together the best they could over the 
stubble, on their way to Braque’s. To keep step was 
impossible. 

The first greeting over, Peggy presumed “Ike had 
forgotten them since he’d been in the town. ’’ 

Ike assured her “he had not forgotten them,’’ but 
omitted telling her he had become more especially in- 
terested in them than in the days he and Meg cracked 
nuts before the fire Jabez always ke'pt so cheerful. 

“Ike’s been milking, Jabez,’’ said Braque, “and 
doing odd jobs about the place for his mother since 
he came home. I’ve a big notion to put him at it 
again, he does so well — eh, Ike?” 

‘ ‘ I think as you are all getting along so well without 
me I’ll decline the offer,” said Ike. 

“I thought that would be the way, ” said his mother. 
“When I was getting him ready for the college I felt 
I was giving him up for good. ’ ’ She turned around 
to hide an emotion the memory of her boy long parted 
with called forth. 

“Well,” said Peggy, “you hadn’t to give him up as 
John’s wife gave poor Tim, sick as long as he was, 
poor child! and not a comfort the neighbors didn’t 
have to bring in. ’ ’ 

“Comfort! You’re talking,” said Jabez. “Not a 
bite to eat the neighbors didn’t have to bring in. ” 

“Yes, it’s the most distressing sight I’ve seen for 


102 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


many a year,” said Draque. “There’s many another 
neighbor topples over sometimes, but none of them 
stays right at it like John. What’s the more astonish- 
ing, he was as straight and well meaning a man as 
any of us when we came here, nigh forty years ago. ’ ’ 

The scene of the night before was passing before 
Ike. He could control his indignation no longer and 
abruptly asked : 

“Father, do you know what I’d do with that fellow 
if I had my way?” 

“I don’t, Ike. What would you do with him?” 
asked Draque. 

“I’d put him in a pen and give him a chance to 
sober up, and if he didn’t stay sober I’d keep him 
there. ’ ’ 

“I know you’re well meaning enough, Ike,” said 
his father, “but you have no idea how well-liked a 
man John was before this came over him. ” 

“I see how it is,” said Ike. “When a man’s neigh- 
bors are willing to take care of his family for him, he 
is willing to let them. That is, a man of John’s 
stamp. ’ ’ 

“I’ll tell you, Jabez,” said Draque, not noticing 
Ike’s last remark, “it keeps a man picking up and 
hammering at something all the time to go ahead on 
a farm, and John got so far behind before he knew it 
that he could never get up the courage to strike out 
again. ’ ’ 

Ike, still aching to give John Strand what he thought 
he deserved, said: 

“Father seems anxious to cover all John’s faults, 
but I could not say a word in that man’s defense.” 

“One can’t say for another what he doesn’t feel for 
him, Ike. If you only felt a little of what I do for 
him, you’d find words that would walk straight out 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


103 


of yotir mouth,” said Draque, as he turned his eye 
upon Ike with a melancholy smile quite unusual. 

Ike smiled and dropped the subject, feeling that 
with all his “college and law learning” he would have 
hard work to get ahead of his father, at least in this 
particular case. 

The next morning was set for the funeral. It was 
well attended, there being no lack of willing hands 
and sympathetic hearts to lay “little Tim” in the rest- 
ing place prepared. Mother, sister and brothers fol- 
lowed him to the grave. John was awakened and 
rode in the procession in a dazed sort of a way. He 
sat upright and looked reasonable. That he fully real- 
ized what was taking place nobody seemed to doubt, 
not even Ike with all his advantages; but it would 
take a while yet for him to be able to understand, as 
a sane man would, that Tim had left them. Hiram 
Blank appeared with promptness and expressed his 
sympathy. He could depend upon the townspeople 
and newcomers for patronage now, and probably was 
sorry his old friend and first customer was so reduced. 

After a few days John’s eyes were wider open, and 
it dawned upon him with awful reality that Tim was 
gone. He then piteously sobbed, for he had a tender 
love when “himself” for the little sufferer who often 
asked him with imploring eyes, without speaking a 
word, to let drink alone, and he understood the mes- 
sage; but all no use. The phantom of no hope for 
him — no, never — loomed up everywhere before him 
like a giant. 

Ike spent one week at home, as he called the whole 
place, the neighbors as well as his own home. He 
hailed the stage coach at the same turn in the road 
he had stepped off at a week before. His town, as 
the people were wont to call it, was the largest of all 


104 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


places called towns in those parts — indeed it had be- 
come a city of no mean proportion, but the settlers 
clung to the name town. Consequently he was not so 
nearly alone on his return trip, nor was the trip so 
eventful. 

He looked at the scenery and thought a great deal 
about his companion of the former trip. He was more 
interested in him, although he was far away, than in 
those around him, and was looking forward with in- 
terest to the time he was to meet him on his errand 
of important business spoken of. 

The stranger possessed some magnetic power that 
held Ike captive, and, although his seat was occupied 
by another, to him the whole coach was filled with 
the one presence, and that one the absent companion 
of the week before. 

As the coach moved on the chipmunk ran the rail 
fence, as if trying to keep pace with it. He was such 
a speedy little runner he occasionally found time to 
stop and deliberately look at the big animal journeying 
the same way, and seemingly took a pride in outrun- 
ning his large traveling companion. The squirrel 
peeped from under cover and bounded out of sight to 
appear again at some other point not far distant. 
Upon his return Ike found his law partner, who was 
beginning to feel old, laid up with rheumatism and 
exceedingly glad to see his young worker return. Nor 
had Ike any regrets. He had long since realized that 
upon himself, with God’s help, depended his future. 
He knew that with the great world he held about the 
same position as a man thrown overboard with no life- 
boat at hand — he must strike out for himself. He had 
enjoyed his visit home as well as any one could have 
enjoyed a similar visit. Meg was not there and that 
meant disappointment, besides home and its surround- 


ISAAC DRAQCfe, THK RUCKEYE. 


105 


ings struck him most forcibly with the truth all things 
are passing away — at least all things he was familiar 
with in youth, and he must prepare to face things that 
now are and are to be. 

The cabin, and faces that were before him in child- 
hood, and early boyhood, and that had then seemed to 
him permanent — were materially changed, and the 
feeling that a few short years at best would blot them 
out, completely tinged all with sadness. But, he rea- 
soned, “it is so ordained,’’ and went to work a nobler 
man for the grief. It was not the God appointed thing 
to sit down with folded hands, and repine because the 
logs of which his cabin home was built were crumbling 
into dust, and the feet of those who toiled so hard to 
build it were nearing the grave. He read in his Bible, 
“If any man will not work, neither let him eat,” and 
he went to work with all the energy in him, which 
anyone to see him at it would have declared sufficient 
to equip three full grown men, giving each impetus 
enough to last him to the end of a long life. 

In the course of time his rheumatic partner was 
forced to let him have full sway, and the law firm was 
beginning to be known as well by the name of the 
young lawyer, as by that of the one who had been the 
law oracle of the place for more than twenty years. 


CHAPTER XL 


The young orchards were now so prolific that the 
thrifty housewife, with the help of children and neigh- 
bors, could not pare, quarter and dry the apples as 
they fell, and if she could, the demand was so small it 
would be next to a waste of time. Draque said, “The 
family was expected to have a taste for a little of 
something besides dried apples,” although prepared 
in the then known variety of ways. He went on to 
say: “The hogs, to acquire solid fat, need something 
more solid than apples, which may answer in the be- 
ginning of the fattening process; later, corn must be 
fed.” 

Every variety of the apple will not keep through the 
winter; therefore to avoid waste, Draque persisted 
until he found a way out of the difficulty. The cider 
mill was erected, and the juice, sweet and palatable, 
taken from the apple, and placed upon the table, 
sparkling, and of which the rising generation freely 
partook. 

The new cider, scarcely ten days old, begins to have 
an effect upon the nerves, and the whole man, some- 
thing similar to the effect produced by beverages pro- 
cured at Hibe’s and other gentlemen of the place of 
similar calling. The effect upon the rising generation 
would certainly have been much better, had the cider 
been let stand till used as vinegar to pickle the un- 
wholesome cucumber. 

Jabez and Peggy were engaged “boiling down” 
some of the new made cider, when they were greeted 
by neighbor Draque with the remark : 

io6 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


107 


“The boys are giving Mose Schiver a fine send off; 
the racket they are making with the horns and tin 
pans would deafen a man a quarter of a mile away. ” 
offered Draque a chair, and with a con- 
temptuous toss of her head, said : 

“I’ve been so worked up over that marriage all day 
that I couldn’t tend to the house.” 

“Nonsense, woman,” replied Draque, “Who could 
blame him for marrying again. It’s been a cold place 
over there for some time sure enough, his wife in the 
grave and the children turning out bad — none of them 
cares for the old place or their father, or is likely to 
ever take interest in either. The widow is young and 
sprightly, and promises to make things stir, and the 
two children she has will liven the place up a bit. 
What say you, Jabez?” 

That was a question Jabez appeared to require a lit- 
tle time to think about, and Peggy had ample chance to 
remark : 

“More’s the pity; why didn’t the children turn out 
well? I think that same man will have something to 
answer for concerning the way the children turned 
out. ’ ’ 

“Yes,” said Jabez, this time entirely bent upon 
agreeing with Peggy, “he didn’t set them the right 
example, Draque, and his wife sick all the time, not 
able to put things right. ’ ’ 

Peggy began again, saying: “Well, the poor thing! 
She died at last. Schiver ’s free now to take care of 
some other man’s children — hope he’ll do for them 
better than he did for his own; but I’m thinking he 
presumed a great deal when he presumed some other 
man’s children would turn out better than his own — 
that is, under his keeping. ’ ’ 


J08 ISAAC DRAQUE, THE RUCKEYE. 

“The new wife, and her children, will get the home, 
you’ll find, Draque,” said Jabez. 

“Yes,” said Peggy, “and those children will have 
to step out in spite of the hard struggle their mother 
had to keep things together, and a hard struggle it 
was to the day of her death. But that’s the way you 
men do things. You make laws to suit yourselves, 
and other people have to suffer the consequence. ’’ 
Peggy, in her excitement, banged the boiler with 
the stick in an endeavor to stir the boiling cider, put a 
pan down in such a hurry she missed the table and 
sent it rattling over the floor, stepped on the dog’s 
tail, and sent him on the run, howling. 

“Hold on, Peggy,’’ said Draque, “or we’ll think 
you’re in with the boys in the Schiver send off. ’’ 

Jabez looked after the yelping dog, and joined 
Draque in a hilarious laugh, all of which made no im- 
pression whatever upon Peggy’s indignant spirit. 
She continued: “I reckon if some people I know had 
a little say-so a great many things would be different. ’’ 
“Let us alone, Peggy, we’re waking up to the 
right,’’ said Draque, still laughing. “But what would 
you have us do,’’ he continued, “walkover to the meet- 
ing house and forbid the minister to marry them — then 
we’d be getting into hot water without getting the 
children out. Schiver would drive to the next meet- 
ing house, or meet a squire, mebbe, and then drive 
home again not caring to look at us; you know, we’re 
peaceable fellows, and don’t care to mix up in trouble 
like that. ’ ’ 

“No,” said Peggy, “but your voting, and voting; 
there’s no end to the laws you are making, and I don’t 
see much good coming of them all, right about here, 
when a man can turn his family out of the home 
they’re reared in and bring a brand new one right 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. IO9 

into their place. If they did not turn out just as well 
as expected, they had some right there, I think. Their 
mother worked as hard as Schiver did, and I stand by 
it, she had an equal right to the little they possessed, 
and on her death-bed ought to be able to will that to 
her children. Even though they were not as good as 
some other people’s children, it’s more after a moth- 
er’s heart to leave them the little she worked hard for 
than to pass it over fee simple to another family. ’ ' 

Peggy looked at her listeners in a way that said 
plainly, “I mean what I say,” and continued: 

“When you’re voting, some of these times, let you 
make a law giving the mother the right to dispose of 
one half of the possessions as she chooses. If Schiver 
had died instead of his wife on his death-bed he could 
dispose of two thirds of the place in whatever manner 
he wanted, and all she’d have would be a life lease of 
the rest. It wouldn’t go out of the family as it’s go- 
ing now. ’ ’ 

She stopped and gave her listeners plenty of time 
for reply, but none coming, she began again : 

“I’m not speaking for women that marry posses- 
sions as well as men — they’re scarce about here; but 
I’m speaking for the woman that commenced life with 
a man that had nothing, like Schiver. Her path isn’t 
likely to be any easier than his ; she has to keep stir- 
ring as lively for what’s gotten together, and ought to 
have her say-so about the half of it. ’ ’ 

Peggy, probably disgusted with the idea of having 
to work so hard, and, maybe after all, for nothing, 
took the boiled cider off the fire, smoothed out her 
apron and sat down. 

Both Jabez and Draque seemed to be thinking pro- 
foundly about something. Neither stirred, nor offered 
to give Peggy a “lift” with the cider. 


I lO 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


“r 11 declare, Peggy, if you can’t hit hard, ’’said 
Draque at last, and, looking around at Jabez in a 
comical way, he said: “I think it takes a woman to 
get at a woman’s ideas of how she’d like to be 
treated. ’ ’ 

The arrival of the new Mrs. Schiver had thoroughly 
aroused Peggy ; she felt in honor bound to vindicate 
the woman in her grave, and replied : 

“As far as I can see you men don’t care to inquire 
what a woman’s ideas may be; the laws are all made 
regardless of that, which mightn’t matter much, if we 
didn’t have to come under them. ” 

“Upon my word, Peggy,” said Draque, “I never 
thought Schiver’s wife wouldn’t be willing to die, and 
let him do as he pleased with the farm. ” 

‘ ‘ When you begin to make fun about matters that so 
much of our happiness or misery depends on, you 
needn’t talk to me,” said Peggy, as she drew from 
beneath the table the stocking basket, opened out and 
commenced running her hand into one stocking and 
then another, to see how many had the heels and toes 
out, and then remarked : 

“I suppose I’ll have to see that the stockings are 
mended, whether I’m dealt fairly by or not.” 

“That’s touching me pretty sore, Peggy,” said 
Jabez. “Don’t you think I’d do the fair thing by you. ” 
“Yes,” said Peggy, with returning good nature; “I 
think you would, but I can’t be so satisfied with the 
way I’m treated as to not have a word to say for those 
that have not been treated well. ’ ’ 

Jabez made use of the fingers of his right hand as a 
sort of curry comb, and sat for a while thoughtfully 
rubbing the scant locks back from his bald forehead, 
and at last remarked : 

“I’m afraid it’s the way with the majority in many 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


Ill 


cases, as well as the one Tobe is trying to show up. 
The man whose pot is boiling well doesn’t bother his 
head about the man whose pot is not boiling at all. ’ ’ 

“That’s it,” replied Draque; “they call it minding 
^ other people’s business like, and that is something a 
man of sense doesn’t care to do.” 

“I don’t know about that,” said Peggy, “but you 
seem to take yourselves into consideration fairly 
enough. There’s no law passed that’s going to inter- 
fere with your well being, as far as you can see, with- 
out your approval or disapproval, at least, and what’s 
farther than you can see isn’t likely to trouble you.” 

“No,” said Draque, laughing, “but we stand in dan- 
ger of meeting such eye-openers as you are, all along, 
3,nd then the trouble begins that we never 
dreamed of when we thought we were making good 
laws. Don’t accuse me of ever having a hand in the 
making of a law I didn’t think a good one. I wouldn’t 
maliciously injure anyone in any way.” 

Draque shook his head and shrugged his shoulders 
at the idea. He said: 

“Of Tobe trying to shove the evil of slavery on his 
shoulders, as if he had a hand in it at all, and now Peggy 
talking as if the possessions of the late Mrs. Schiver, 
now lost to her children, was something for which 
both Jabez and himself must be blamed.” 

“No,” said Peggy, “I’m not resting the whole 
blame on your shoulders, Draque, but only your share 
of it. I know it’s in your power to raise your voice in 
the right, and what I blame you for is, that you don’t 
do it.” 

“And that one voice in the right, as you say, 
wouldn’t do much good, Peggy, as long as everyone 
else was in favor of the wrong,” said Draque. 
“There’s no one in the neighboi*hood more willing to 


I 12 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


oblige than I’d be, and if I could I’d settle the Schiver 
place on the children this minute. I’ll own up I do 
think it a shame to take it from them now that I come 
to think about it. ’ ’ 

“Well,” said Peggy, “until some more of you make ^ 
up your minds, like Tobe, to strike out for what’s 
right, in spite of what everybody else thinks, and does, 
not much will be done toward bettering the condition 
of things here any more than in the South. ’ ’ 

“It’s too bad Tobe isn’t here tonight, Peggy, so 
you’d have help,” said Jabez. “You see, I don’t like 
to disagree with Draque altogether. It would hardly 
be the square thing for both to set our faces against 
him in our own house. Besides, if Draque didn’t 
know how good-natured you could be after a heap of 
scolding. I’m afraid we’d both have to call on neigh- 
bor Draque before he’d ever darken our door again 
after this night. ’ ’ 

“ Draque ’s a man that can get badly tangled and 
worsted and not lose his temper. Peggy knows that 
well,” said Draque. “I’ll be back the first chance I 
get, and, if I thought you were at all uneasy about 
my coming. I’d leave the corn unhusked to make the 
call. You can’t tell me anything about Peggy’s good 
nature that we haven’t felt at our house both in sick- 
ness and health, and it ’ill be a long day before Draque 
or any of his family will take offense at anything 
Peggy says, knowing as we do that everything she 
does is well meant. ’ ’ 

Peggy forgot all her sorrow for others’ woes for 
the moment, and smiled as pleasantly as ever she did 
in her life while saying : 

“In spite of everything, Draque couldn’t be any- 
thing but complimentary if he tried. ’ ’ 

“I think after that I’ll face toward home,” said 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. II3 

Draque. “But I’ll declare, Peggy, if Schiver knew 
how he was hauled over the coals tonight, he'd not 
sleep a wink for a week. ’ ’ 

“Not Schiver alone but all the rest of us, Draque. 
didn’t seem to blame Schiver as much for marry- 
ing and turning his children out of doors as the rest 
of us for letting him,’’ said Jabez, with a mischievous 
smile. 

“We’ll not trouble Peggy to go over the old ground 
again Jabez,” said Draque, “and I think the least 
said that would intimate we would the better. ’ ’ 

Peggy’s fury for the occasion was evidently spent, 
she presently rolled up one stocking after another and 
threw them into the big basket at her feet, now and 
then taking time to look over her glasses at Draque 
and Jabez, who were standing by the table. Draque 
about to say “good-night” and Jabez turning over 
and looking at his hat, deep crowned and broad 
brimmed, evidently designed, above all things else, 
as a protection from the sun, preparatory to handing 
it to him for his departure. The dog stole cautiously 
across the room, keeping a respectful distance from 
Peggy and her work-basket. The sight of the poor 
fellow, with his tail tucked between his hind legs, 
as if trying to keep it out of reach of Peggy’s feet, 
was too much for fun-loving neighbor Draque, who, 
chuckling with laughter forced back, said, as he took 
his hat from Jabez, “I’ll get out of Peggy’s way, 
Jabez, and you take care of the dog.” 

Peggy raised her eyes as Draque spoke and caught 
a glimpse of the household pet before he reached his 
destination, and could not help noticing the “I’m- 
whipped” air with which he took his accustomed place, 
evidently determined, no matter what happened, to 
never stir out of it again, and for the first time since 
8 


I 14 ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 

the new Mrs. Schiver arrived laughed outright. Draque 
looked at the dog as he demurely settled himself, and 
said: 

“He’s only a dog, but he makes good resolutions 
like the rest of us, that’s plain. You’ll not catch him 
out of his place another time when Peggy’s boiling 
down cider, depend upon it, Jabez. ’’ 

“I hope you’ll be as good in keeping resolutions,” 
said Peggy; “but a trip across the fields home will 
take all the good resolutions out of you, Draque. ’ ’ 

“I’ll make up my mind to settle down and stay 
there if it does,” replied Draque, “especially if any 
more of our neighbors take it into their heads to follow 
Schiver’s example.” 

“I believe it wouldn’t be safe to come back and face 
Peggy if such a thing happened, unless you’d voted 
a time or two in favor of a law that would put a stop 
to such,” cautioned Jabez. 

“You folks are entirely too funny when the ques- 
tion is important enough to affect another’s well being, ’ ’ 
said Peggy. “Men of sense, as you call yourselves, 
ought to be above jibing when you see it rests alto- 
gether with you to make wrongs right. Even the dog 
there has more dignity; he was out of his place a 
while ago, and realized it. ’ ’ 

“It took a mighty hard pinch to make him realize 
it,” said Draque, more in a laughing mood than ever. 

paid no attention whatever to Draque ’s last 
remark, but said: 

“You tell me you realize certain things, and yet 
don’t take your place as he does.” She heaved a 
sigh and continued: “If men like Tobe didn’t rise 
up now and then I don’t know what would become 
of the world. ’ ’ 

“Tobe hasn’t done much yet, Peggy,” said Draque. 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


”5 


“He’s been a good many years hammering at the 
slave question, and I can’t see that he’s any further 
on than when he began. That’s what discourages 
the half of us. We’re willing enough to step to the 
front every time, but when the evil is so great that we 
can do nothing that will down it, we make up our minds 
we might better be doing little things about the place 
than racking our brains and spending our time with 
matters that’s going to be about the same in spite 
of us. ’ ’ 

“I think Tobe has done a little something so far if 
you dont, ” said Peggy. “He’s roused up a good 
many to see things about as he sees them. ’ ’ 

“Yes,” said Jabez, with a certainty that would bring 
conviction to a score of unbelievers were they listen- 
ing, “what Tobe saw fifteen years ago, and only Tobe 
in those parts, many a one sees today through his 
showing. ’ ’ 

“But we’re not as good talkers as Tobe, Jabez and 
I, and wouldn’t be able to stick to a thing as he does, 
Peggy. So I think we’ll have to ask you to overlook 
our faults in that direction,” said Draque. 

“You can’t tell me,” said Peggy, “that the person 
lives that has something to say and isn’t able to say it; 
that is, provided he’s not a dummy. And I think you 
could say many a thing as much to the point as many 
another thing I see published nowadays, if you only 
had a will to try it. ” 

Draque was evidently in no mood to see things as 
Peggy saw them, and said : 

“I’ve been a long time starting for home, Jabez, 
but I’ll make a move now that ’ill tell, for there’s a 
heap of work waiting for me to turn out, and I must 
be at it early in the morning. ’ ’ He shifted his position 
again and said, “I thought long ago that when we 


Il6 ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 

got the trees ail felled and the logs cleared away there ’d 
be no more rushing, but I’ll declare there’s more to 
keep a man moving now than ever. ’ ’ 

Jabez handed him the hat he stood reaching for and 
which he had picked up the second time. With the 
kindliest feelings “good-night” was exchanged, and 
Draque stepped out beneath a canopy that would ex- 
pand the soul of any thinking creature — moon, and 
stars, and shifting clouds. The moon full and appar- 
ently sailing through the dark clouds, whose borders 
were transformed into whiteness as the moon passed 
through. Draque mused as he walked on : 

“No two nights are just the same. I’ve often 
walked this path before, at about the same hour, with 
the same moon and stars above. I can’t say the same 
clouds, and mebbe that’s why it all looks so different to- 
night. But surely the whole is grand, and the man that 
can see such a sight needn’t care for the beautiful things 
made by man’s hands. That’s why we’re as contented 
in our cabins, as others are in palaces. The fine things 
they bring about them take the mind and the eye 
from what’s higher. ” 

Draque ’s hand was now on the latch of his own 
door, which he opened and stepped in to a rest as re- 
freshing as ever came to the luxuriously housed. 


CHAPTER XIL 


The adage, “True love never runs smooth,” did not 
appear to have been written for either Ike or Meg, 
in as far as family objections might be concerned. 
Neither had the aversion of a to-be mother-in-law to 
overcome. Peggy felt certain “there could not be 
found a better match for Meg than Ike, nor one she 
would rather see step in her door as son-in-law, ’ ’ and 
Ike’s mother always had a word of praise for the girl 
she said “everybody liked.” 

But in other ways their path was somewhat crooked. 
In the days of spelling matches, quilting, and pearing 
bees, letter writing was hardly the fashion, at least 
to the extent it became afterward. A letter was not 
often expected except from the East, and even those 
were not so anxiously awaited as in years before, w hen 
the hearts of the settlers were yet alive to everything 
transpiring in their old home. 

Ike had an aversion to coming down to the point in 
a letter. If he could only see Meg he would under- 
stand her better than through a dozen letters, and she 
could take him precisely for what he was worth. True 
love does not need a long array of words, beautifully 
put, to convey just what it means. Ike would depend 
more upon a single look and an eloquent hand-grasp, 
that went like an arrow to the heart, than he would 
upon a written volume. There had been no way out 
of the difficulty, however, but a letter, and, since his 
appeal to Meg upon his return to town, it is not pos- 
sible to guess at the number or as to whether few or 
many passed between them. 


Il8 ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 

Meg wrote Ike “she was employed for the winter. 
As the distance was considerable, and the road at that 
season of the year not the best, she would not be 
home before the next spring, ’ ’ which settled all hope 
in Ike of meeting her sooner at her father’s house. 
There were no gentlemen of leisure in the profession, 
especially when a senior partner felt indisposed and 
demanded the junior’s presence. Although the senior 
had decided to retire, some complicated , matter re- 
quired a little time for settlement. Therefore there 
was not a shadow of hope for Ike that he would be 
able to take a trip across the state before the time 
alluded to, and it is probable, if not certain, that in the 
meantime many a letter followed the particular one 
that made Meg’s heart beat considerably faster, and 
that she read a score of times and always found inter- 
esting. 

The possibilities of the young school teacher were 
without limitation. With no social lines to debar her 
from becoming even mistress of the White House, she 
could build castles at will and people them with the 
fairest and most chivalrous of human beings. 

Meg’s letter from Ike offered her such an opportu- 
nity, even though he may not have proposed. There 
was certainly a suspicion about it which led her to 
think such might be the case, at least so a third party 
might think, and left her the whole winter to build 
castles accordingly. 

Every one knew Ike was fast rising, and none knew 
it better than Meg. But it was not the rising Ike 
that held her captive — it was the Ike of the past, the 
handsome, manly fellow that even the uninterested 
would turn to look upon the second time. 

In many a spelling match she and Ike had held 
their own, and were the targets of many a beaming 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE HUCKEYE. 


119 


eye possessed, by those who had been spelled down and 
were anxiously awaiting results which would deter- 
mine whether Ike or Meg had “spelled the school 
down. ’ ’ 

Meg had all along been thoroughly interested in 
her school and in each particular pupil. Tow heads 
and blue eyes received as much attention from her as 
ever, and no one could have guessed, from any differ- 
ence shown to the little ones, that her vision of perfec- 
tion was the possessor of eyes and hair that were very 
brown. Other little things aside from love and teach- 
ing aroused in Meg what might have been otherwise 
dormant faculties, and gave her an opportunity of 
exercising them — not directly, but as a channel through 
which relief found way. In the part of the state she 
had found an opening as teacher there was a crop fail- 
ure, caused by late frosts that destroyed the wheat 
just as it was about to ripen and burned the young 
tassels of the corn. Later, and consequently poorer 
neighbors, whose bams were not filled, would have 
suffered considerably had they not received help. But 
no one in those parts had yet arrived at the point 
where their means was a sufficient guarantee to raise 
them a peg above their neighbors; consequently all 
demands for relief were promptly met. 

The most self-sacrificing people are not usually 
found among those who have the most means and 
leisure. Conscious that, as far as they themselves are 
concerned, there is no necessity for acting, they sit 
down, and the law of gravitation, or some other law 
equally forcible, holds them there. They are not in- 
clined to act. But such people existed only in far 
away places where Meg’s grandmother had come from, 
and, where she heard so much about the separating 
line that divided classes, and where her own grand- 


1 20 


ISAAC BRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


mother, and in fact the grandmothers or great-grand- 
mothers of all Americans were, alas ! on the dark side 
of the dividing line. 

One morning an hour or two after Ike entered his 
office, a letter of unusual interest occupied his atten- 
tion. Was it or was it not from Meg? He read and re- 
read as if intent upon committing every word to mem- 
ory. After reading a sentence or two he would stop 
and look at the chair opposite as closely as if expect- 
ing to find the next sentence in the legs, or to discern 
in its straight back the meaning of what he had already 
read. An observer at a single glance might discipher 
the heading — “Boston, November 8th, 1852.” The 
writer went on to state that “Notwithstanding their 
unselfish and hard work they, as Ike well knew, had 
been defeated, but the defeat had only made them the 
more resolute as to future action in the same direction, 
and knowing Ike’s ability begged of him to still co- 
operate, being quite certain some near future would 
see their plans fully executed. ” It was evident Ike 
and his stage-coach companion had long since come 
to an understanding. Ike was aware of the results of 
the election previous to receiving the letter. He had 
gracefully accepted the defeat, and resolved that the 
next campaign would prove he had not been idle in 
the Buckeye state. And the boy who from the cradle 
was “given to thinking,” and who had now been 
many years a man, thought harder than ever. Before 
the next election drew near he was prepared to do in 
the town what Tobe had long been doing in the country. 
He was prepared to agitate, and he laid his views so 
forcibly before the whole people, in such a plain, 
straightforward manner, that he brought conviction 
to the minds and secured the votes of many who like 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


I2I 


Draque, were willing to go the right way once they 
saw it. 

The winter was now drawing to a close. The icicles 
that formed every night on the eves of Ike’s office 
every forenoon at an early hour disappeared. Even 
the sturdy icicle in the shady corner was unable to 
hold his own longer, and melted away in the warm 
atmosphere without a ray of the sun ever falling upon 
it. Ike watched them melting with a glad heart. We 
find him today seated in his office listening attentively 
to a man who is not his client. The man is elderly, 
gray, very intelligent-looking, and a stranger in town— 
not so complete a stranger, however, that a few did 
not remember having seen him once or twice before. 
What passed between them was not meant for other 
ears, at least for the present. The stranger’s stay was 
prolonged. For several days he was seen about town, 
and always directing his steps either to or from the 
lawyer’s office. W^hen he was about to leave Ike was 
seen stepping with him to the station, and the two, in 
confidential conversation, stood for some minutes be- 
fore the train pulled out. 

To the ordinary mortal there was nothing in that 
spring to make it in any way different from every other 
spring. The robin’s whistle could be heard from all 
directions, as in other years at the same season. Other 
early birds, that had been witnessing Southern scenes, 
the neighbors said, returned with such rapidity and 
in such numbers one might be pardoned for doubting 
they came so far, when they were not actually seen 
in flocks on the wing. No one was able to tell when 
they arrived, or from what direction they entered the 
place; but, like the house fly, with sun and spring 
they were on hand, and unlike the puny insect always 
most welcome. The wild goose and pigeon blackened 


122 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


the sky at intervals upon their arrival or departure, 
while the little songster slipped in and dropped out 
without warning as to when or how. 

The bleating lamb was heard in the outskirts of the 
town, where Ike often strolled for recreation, and was 
a pleasant sound to his ear, as memory carried him 
back to home scenes, pasture fields, and the north lot, 
where so much of his brain and muscle were developed. 

He often acknowledged that the planning and man- 
aging necessary to do away with the obstructions on 
that lot, and watching with an intelligent eye the cause 
and effect of so many things springing up about him, 
upon the very spot where he and his father had laid 
low and turned into ashes the monster crop of cen- 
turies’ growth, did as much toward developing his 
brain as the professors in the college did. A sweeter 
recollection stole upon him even there. The memory 
of when his steps brought him to the fireside where 
Jabez and Peggy often read and where Meg was sure 
to be. 

But a man deeply in love must always be an extra- 
ordinary mortal, perhaps only in a visionary way. The 
wonderful and beautiful properties all nature presents, 
he sees more clearly than the man with no love in his 
soul, or perchance the man with love and many cares 
combined. Overwhelming care is often the friction 
that causes the love wheel to clog, or at best helps it 
to move slowly, and sometimes transforms what was 
once the recipient of love into a burden to be borne 
only by those giants of physical and mental strength ; 
and by another class, strong and weak alike, who have 
been taught from the cradle there is no way out but 
endure until death. The weaker invariably shrink, 
especially those who have the faculty of foreseeing 
certain results they are conscious they have not the 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


123 


power to turn aside. The mediocre, who have not 
the searching power to calculate with such clearness, 
with the dim future before them, plod on and on until 
the earth is filled and refilled with woes multiplied. 

But not a thought of such a possibility ever enters 
the mind of the lover ; he never for a moment dreams 
that anything will ever mar the beautiful ideal before 
him — never stops to think that may be he himself will 
be the destructive power that will cause the whole 
love structure to collapse. He may not be the willful 
destructive agent, that meditates and plans an evil 
act, but an observer may sometimes calculate in par- 
ticular cases with as much certainty as the astronomer 
calculates an eclipse or the distance between the earth 
and certain heavenly bodies. 

Ike, with all his penetrating powers, saw nothing 
in the future dire or dark. All was bright as the 
rising sun, with not a cloud in the horizon. Happi- 
ness and ease with him were not synonymous words. 
He was accustomed to being obliged to remove ob- 
stacles everywhere. And was not Meg? Had either 
ever lived an hour for ease alone? He would never 
tire making the future as successful as the past, and 
with such resolutions turned from the contemplation 
of the exquisite to his daily toil. Perfect people are 
rarely found, however high they aim. There is some 
spot vulnerable, like the heel of the god. But that 
there was such a spot in Ike no one was able to dis- 
cover. That he was a true friend, a perfect gentle- 
man, and a gallant lover could not be more truly said 
of the lord to manor born, than of the man who looked 
at roof higher than castle or tower built by some proud 
ancestor, and counted the lights in the story dome not 
to be quenched but at the command of the Heavenly 
Father. 


124 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


At the first intimation that Meg had returned, Ike 
prepared for another visit home. It was the same 
old road, not any perceptible difference as to increased 
traffic. It was earlier in the season, and consequently 
not the variety of thrifty life by the roadside. The 
grass was in its infancy, and like the softest velvet. 
The trees all the same fresh, tempting green, with the 
exceptional shower of pink and white blossoms cover- 
ing the peach and cherry. The same stage-coach, 
with the same pair of heavy horses. And the same 
driver in the right-hand corner of the seat held the 
reins as in times before. There were two men in the 
coach when Ike seated himself, and the same two when 
he vacated; but no sympathy existed between them. 
On several occasions Ike tried to talk, but they had 
nothing at heart that interested him, and he was too 
completely engrossed with home affairs to be his best 
in politics. Besides, his companions were too far away 
from his ideas, and so unreasonably stubborn in re- 
senting every view not their own, that it would take 
at least the next four years to bring them about, if 
brought at all. 

Conversation was a complete failure. The two men 
saw no life or beauty in anything around them ; they 
had started from one place and were going to another, 
and that was the end to it. Ike was glad to learn 
both places were outside his native state. He looked 
at the corner where the traveling companion of the 
time before was seated, and saw him in spirit. He 
was even there, a more real companion than the two 
clothed in flesh. The two men, entire strangers, who 
had met for the first time less than one year before 
in the commonplace stage-coach, now lived in the 
closest bonds of friendship. Now they both had 
the same object in view, the emancipation of the 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 125 

slave, and both had vowed to do their utmost in that 
direction. 

Even on the eve of meeting Meg, Ike’s thoughts 
rambled sometimes to the slave. The stage-coach 
came to a standstill on the same spot he put his foot 
the time previous. He alighted without the hand- 
shaking, and promised friendship of months before. 
The driver pulled the reins, and the coach horses as- 
sumed their usual gait. There was nothing in the 
coach to claim Ike’s attention — he stepped on without 
turning to look back. The rotten stump that ob- 
structed his path, and that he had rested his elbow upon 
the time before while taking a wondering, last look at 
the receding coach, carrying away so much he had in 
the short time learned to love and respect, was no 
temptation for a similar rest. He made the slightest 
perceptible halt as he approached, and hit a protrud- 
ing root a kick that made a dozen pieces of it, and sent 
them flying in as many directions, but evidently with- 
out noticing anything in particular, walked on. 

This time, Ike’s reception at home eclipsed all 
others, if one may be allowed to judge from the cheer- 
ful, happy man seen for a whole week at, and around, 
the old homestead. His father, mother, and every- 
body, were glad to see him; Meg was glad, and he 
was particularly glad himself. Arrangements that 
had been under headway, were completed, and a quiet 
wedding took place that very week at the minister’s 
house — that, while bordering on the new city, was not 
a stone’s throw from a patch of dense woodland, in 
precisely the same state the red man left it, wanting 
only the deer and wolf and Indian to complete the 
wild picture. 

The cows of the neighboring field loved its dense 
foliage, and rippling streams ; and the different sounds 


126 ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEVR. 

of the tinkling bells were undoubtedly a source of 
cultivation of a certain kind, to the boy who listened, 
endeavoring to ascertain in what direction he must 
proceed to find their brindle. 

Ike took in the woods at a glance, the timber of 
which he knew every tree — and also knew about the 
amount of muscle it would take to completely meta- 
morphose them in various ways, such as rail fence, 
cord wood, fire wood, and the remaining debris into 
ashes. In the drive from one big town to another the 
coach drew up at every little hamlet on the route that 
could boast a postoffice. Aside from those, th^re 
were no particular stopping places, but as the occa- 
sional passenger might demand. Ike was the only 
passenger who, in that driver’s day, came to his desti- 
nation so abruptly, and emerged so suddenly from 
some obscure spot outside the town proper. 

This ■ morning, as the coach approached, the driver 
recognized at first sight the handsome passenger of a 
few days before, and halted. According to arrange- 
ments then made, the coach was to stop at a certain 
time, in a certain place, on the following morning. 

The eve of Ike’s second departure was the marking 
of a very important event in the Draque household, as 
it was in the home of Meg. His first departure being 
the time he left with an ax — equipped to contend with 
the oak, beech, hard maple, and sometimes to find its 
way into a sassafras knot that required both iron hand 
and will, in one so young, to extricate it. His mother 
said: “It seemed to her now, even more than ever, 
that she was parting with him for good.” But she 
felt she could part with him more freely now that he 
was a strong man, well equipped for taking care of 
himself, and, although, very dear to her still, he was 
not the boy who years before left her — so helpless. 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


127 


she thought — and feeling that in his youth and inex- 
perience he might be imposed upon, and his strength 
overtaxed. But now she was sure no one was more 
competent to take care of himself than Ike, and his 
second going out in his strength, left, along with the 
void in her heart, a joy. 

Previous to their departure, Ike and Meg wandered 
through the groves and tangled pathways of her 
father’s farm, so well known to both, Meg the while 
gathering and arranging wild flowers into a bouquet. 

“I would not object to you thinking me a rough, 
outspoken fellow, Meg,” said Ike — “that is, if we may 
be allowed to compare human lives with wild nature, 
for the most delicate flower might bloom in a most 
uncultivated heart. ’ ’ 

Without saying a word, Meg looked her astonish- 
ment. Ike leaned against a monstrous oak, and, sur- 
veying the scene as far as the dense growth would 
permit, said: 

“Of the whole stretch of woodland that surrounds 
us, Meg, this is the most wild and rugged part, and 
look. He reached out, and picked a single tiny forget- 
me-not from among a cluster of its kind, all nestling 
in the softest moss growing close to a huge boulder. 

“A person who did not know the place,” he said, 
“would never think of coming here for such a beauty 
as that. ’ ’ 

“No,” said Meg, “one would naturally associate a 
place like this with storms, and tempests — certainly 
with nothing so delicate. As you said, those who did 
not know the place, but I know it as well as you do, 
yet I never saw a forget-me-not here before. ’ ’ 

“Providential, then,” said Ike, “it must have 
bloomed for my sake, ’ ’ and offering it to Meg, asked, 
“Will you keep it for my sake?” 


£28 


iSAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


Meg accepted, and answered with a single “Yes.” 
She did not attempt to add the little beauty to the 
bunch in her hand, and lose it among the larger flow- 
ers, but fastened it above her heart with the tenderest 
care. In after years, a dried forget-me-not told how 
well she kept her promise. 

No two ever started upon the journey of life to- 
gether better liked, and with better wishes from all 
who knew them, than Ike and Meg. On the appointed 
morning, at an early hour, farewells were exchanged, 
and Meg, with a light heart, left forever all the wild 
and lovely scenes of her girlhood, and entered upon 
her new life in the city home provided her by Ike. 

“The transplanting,” as Draque humorously called 
the transfer, and then went on to say, “How Ike had 
been transplanted himself, and understood the care, 
and cultivation of such plants, ’ ’ proved a healthful and 
happy one, all friends said, judging from the beautiful 
home and smiling countenance of Mrs. Draque, junior, 
that greeted them upon their occasional visits to the 
city. 


CHAPTER XIIL 


All those long years Tobe had kept the political 
stone a rolling among the country people. He stepped 
in upon the neighbors at their gatherings on all occa- 
sions, and was good-naturedly called the thunder-cloud 
— an attempt at ridicule on account of his black sub- 
ject, the slave. Jabez was no longer counted a good 
Whig; he entertained what he thought reasonable 
doubts for a long time, and at last went over. Tobe’s 
first disciple. 

Tobe was spending a friendly evening with Jabez. 
It being one of the evenings Draque had nothing to 
do, he took it into his head to spend a while there, too. 
Draque was a good Democrat, and, from the time he 
cast his first vote, never “went back on the party.” 

This evening, Tobe had a paper, which he was 
reading to Jabez, and the two were commenting upon 
how the slaves were being treated by some masters. 
The paper, he said, “was edited in the East by a man 
named Garrison. ’ ’ Draque sat quietly listening while 
Tobe slowly and feelingly read sentence after sen- 
tence of an account of a recent slave sale. Something 
made Draque feel a little uneasy. He did not seem 
to as boldly stand out for his party as he had on other 
occasions. After Tobe had read the article, and laid 
the paper down, Jabez asked; 

“What do you think about that, Draque?” 

Slower than usual, and with less determination, he 
answered : 

“Pretty much as I’ve thought all along. You fel- 
lows that have questions so far from home so much at 


129 


130 ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 

heart may rattle away at them. Besides, I’d like to 
know what you Whigs are going to do about it ; when 
you can show me that you can do more than the 
Democrats, it ’ill be time enough to talk.” 

“We’re not Whigs, Draque,” said Jabez, “we’ve as- 
sociated ourselves with a new party, and a new name. 
We are Abolitionists, and we want your support. We’re 
bound to free the slaves. Could any man with a heart 
listen to what Tobe has just read, and not feel sym- 
pathy for a race so oppressed?” 

Draque looked at Jabez and then at Tobe, with a 
startled look — not a bit of the old time comical about 
it ; a look so strange that the two men saw simulta- 
neously, and interpreted: “Had it been Tobe that said 
that I’d not be a bit surprised, but it’s Jabez. ” 

“Well,” said Draque, and he drawled the word out 
as if it came from his toes, “When it comes to the 
question, must a man be a slave, or must he not, I for 
one would say he must not, but I think, Jabez, that’s 
a question you or I’ll never get a chance to answer in 
a direct way, and until such time as I think I can see 
we can. I’ll be a Democrat.” 

“We’re thankful for even such an acknowledg- 
ment, Draque, ’ ’ said Tobe. ‘ ‘ I know many a man feels 
the same about it.” Turning to Jabez, Tobe said: 
“We’re really stronger today, Jabez, than we have 
dared to hope. ’ ’ 

“Yes,” replied Jabez with a great deal of meaning 
in the word “yes,” — “after that admission of Draque, 
I think we can say we are. ’ ’ 

Tobe again took the paper, and, glancing over it, 
his eye fell upon something he had not read for his 
friends, and which he now proceeded to read. It was 
a further account of a sale, where children were sold 
from their parents, and separated so completely, one 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


131 


would never know when death overtook the other, or 
where their bones were laid. Draque could see 
Amanda’s little grave so snugly kept, with roses and 
sweet pinks blooming upon it in their season. In his 
mind he began to reason: “He’s a black man and a 
slave ; he may not feel a wrong as keenly as I would. ’ ’ 
But it would not do. In spite of his efforts an Old 
World picture met his view, where the nobility and 
gentry did not seem to think the poor and downtrod- 
den had nerves quite as sensitive as theirs, and treated 
them accordingly. He remembered, too, that some of 
those poor and oppressed were his kith and kin, and 
in silence listened to Tobe’s remark, as he laid the 
paper down the second time : 

“It’s wonderful the assurance with which some peo- 
ple can wrap their cloaks about themselves and come 
to the conclusion other people were made to stand 
what it would be impossible for them to endure. ’ ’ 

The remark was not directed to Draque, but was 
simply an expression of what Tobe felt toward the 
whole people who could rest satisfied under existing 
evils. For the first time in his life Draque was unable 
to find words to reply, which was another surprise to 
his friends. He slowly looked around, quietly took a 
plug of tobacco from his trousers’ pocket, a large jack- 
knife from another, and holding the plug so that what 
he cut off would drop into his half open hand, com- 
menced cutting off piece after piece; then as slowly 
replacing plug and knife from where he had taken 
them, proceeded to powder the tobacco between his 
hands. That being done he dove down to the bottom 
of a great pocket in his frock coat, and drew out a 
well used pipe, which he as slowly filled and then as 
deliberately put finger and thumb into his vest pocket 
and brought forth a match. After lighting his pipe 


132 ISAAC BRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 

and taking a few whiffs to see that it was in good 
working order, he looked away some place, as is the 
wont of one in deep thought. We will surmise it was 
toward the South. But from the window where he 
sat, and only a couple of fields distant, in the daylight 
could be plainly seen a little grave with its pretty 
stone, which may have shut out all other sights. 
Draque could see that grave as well in the dark as in 
the light, and if his vision carried him no farther, the 
whole world would be ready to forgive him. But this 
time those who rinderstood him well felt certain it 
did. 

For several minutes the two Abolitionists were 
dumb as Draque. The whack-whack of the indus- 
trious Peggy’s churn handle as it made its way to the 
bottom of the great stone churn could be heard out- 
side, for she had prepared her cream and was churn- 
ing away. 

Peggy generally reasoned well and said: “If I don’t 
bring the butter tonight I’ll have fewer strokes to make 
in the morning. ’ ’ 

Jabez was the first to break the silence with the 
remark : 

“It appears, with all our meeting houses and Bible 
classes, we’re losing sight of the Great Law Giver 
that said: ‘Do unto others as you would have them 
do unto you. ’ When a people greedy for gain didn’t 
take time to consider whether the black men were 
people or cattle, and, now that it’s gone so far, don’t 
seem to care. ’ ’ 

Draque still “held his tongue,’’ an expression he 
often made use of when he wanted to show that the 
man who held his peace was sometimes the gainer. 
Both Tobe and Jabez felt uneasy because of the un- 
usual gloom that had settled upon Draque. To arouse 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. I33 

him Tobe proceeded to give him a little information 
concerning Ike, and said : 

“Ike is with us, Draque, and you might as well 
own up you’re with us, too.” 

Draque shook his head and replied : 

“I know all about Ike’s going over. I know, too, 
Ike wouldn’t do anything he thought was wrong. 
He’s at liberty to go whatever way he pleases, but, if 
I don’t see a thing as he sees it, it’s plain I’m to keep 
on the old track. ’ ’ 

“I remember the time, Draque,” said Jabez, “when 
everybody laughed at Tobe and his hobby, as we 
called it, myself as well as the rest ; but men of learn- 
ing as well as men of sense are siding with him now. 
Why, man! Tobe was thought to be a little ‘off the 
track’ a few years ago, but we tolerated him and lis- 
tened to him because he was a neighbor we liked. But 
now, when men like Ike, who are above the average 
in intelligence, are siding with him, we must come 
to the conclusion his hobby is something more than 
a craze. ’ ’ 

Draque straightened up at the first sound of Ike’s 
praise, feeling too much could not be said in his favor, 
but said nothing. Jabez continued: 

“Besides, Ike expects to derive no special advantage 
from it, and I think we must call him a philanthropist, 
Draque. If there was a big salary or the prospect of 
one in the end, people mightn’t be so willing to flock 
around him. ’ ’ 

“I don’t object,” said Draque, “to any praise you 
may give Ike. No one knows better than I do how 
deserving he is of all he gets. ’ ’ 

After which remark it was evident the men had 
come to the end of the slave topic for the evening. 
Jabez, realizing Draque had become unusually serious, 


134 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


and not inclined to talk, his next thought was to arouse 
in him something of the old self, and said : 

“I think, Tobe, we’ll turn to and entertain Draque 
in a way that will better suit him. 

“You haven’t gone far off the track in suiting me 
even now,’’ interposed Draque, without a movement 
of any part of his body but the particular muscles 
needed to articulate the words. 

“Yes, very willingly, ’ ’ replied Tobe. “It’s nearing 
election time, but a man can talk something else occa- 
sionally and still be earnest.’’ He folded the much 
prized Eastern paper and put it carefully into his 
pocket, gave his pocket one or two vigorous slaps to 
be certain it had reached the bottom, and sat back in 
his chair with the air of a man who had gained his 
point, and, consequently, satisfied to branch out in 
any other direction required by his host. 

“Peggy, isn’t there some cider in the house?” asked 
Jabez, as Peggy appeared at the door with bright 
eyes and flushed face, caused by her combat with the 
churn dasher. Peggy answered in the affirmative, 
and, while she bustled about getting cider and glasses 
ready, Draque shook off the cloud that hung over him, 
clapped his hands, and sang: 

“ ‘Hurrah! hurrah! for Harrison and Tyler, 

A neat log cabin, and a barrel of hard cider. ’ ” 

“Aren’t you on the wrong side, Draque, and away 
behind the times?” asked Jabez, laughing. 

“I’m not thinking about the times or one side or 
the other, neighbors,” replied Draque; “we’ve laid 
that subject on the shelf.” As he looked at Tobe 
with his usual broad smile again at his command, he 
continued: “We’re going to taste the cider Jabez 
doesn’t keep for his own use but to accommodate the 
like of us. ” 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


135 


“I can take a little cider once in awhile, though 
I’m not fond of it,” said Jabez. “It’s the other stuff 
I never touch — the kind that takes a man’s money 
from him. I’d be in the log cabin yet if I did like the 
rest of you. ’ ’ 

“It does worse for some than leave them without 
money, but that has nothing to do with us, ’ ’ said Tobe. 

“That’s true,” said Draque, “and, if I’d not seen 
it with my own eyes. I’d never think it could do such 
bad work. There’s John Strand, and a better neigh- 
bor a man never had— gone to the dogs entirely. Poor 
fellow! and not John alone, but his whole family 
dragged down with him. It would be better for the 
boys that are left, mother says, if they were laid along- 
side of little Tim. As for his wife, she was well 
trained, she’ll not wind up in prison; and, while the 
graveyard may be a peaceful place for her to look at, 
with the help the neighbors give her to keep soul and 
body together, there’s a prospect of her dying of old 
age.” 

“Yes,” said Peggy, “there’s a prospect of her drag- 
ging through many a miserable day yet before she 
finds rest. ’ ’ Peggy heaved a deep sigh and continued : 
“I’ve thought all along that to start out with John 
was too sociable. He called at Hibe’s too often when 
he was sure he’d meet his friends, and get a taste of 
what he thought he’d as good a right to take as the 
rest of you. ’ ’ 

“I’ve always stood out against drinking myself,” 
said Jabez, straightening himself up in a manner that 
indicated they had now touched upon a subject he had 
convictions concerning, even before Tobe had reasoned 
him into the seeing how wrong it was to hold a brother 
in bondage, body and soul; while what Peggy had 
said served as a spur. “I believe it’s a poison never 


136 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


intended for man to take according to his own pleas- 
ure. ” He peered through the darkness into John 
Strand’s wretched hovel, and said firmly: “There 
ought to be a law that says ‘thou shall not,’ even as 
the law that prohibits a man taking a five-dollar bill 
from his neighbor.” He did not ask his friends what 
they thought about it ; that they were not with him 
he knew. But he was too positive in his belief to care. 

“I’ve never seen the day, Jabez, ” said Tobe, “that 
Draque and myself couldn’t take a good swig, and 
then stop. I’m not prepared to say, and I think you’re 
not either, that drinking in that way will do a man 
harm. ” After a few moments’ thought, he continued: 
“I don’t believe in or encourage drunkenness. I say 
let a man take a little every day if he likes, but when 
I say that I’m not telling him to get drunk. ” 

“Well,” said Peggy, for the first time in her life 
differing with Tobe, “the advice appears to me about 
as sensible as a similar advice would be — eat a little 
arsenic every day, but let* it have no bad effect upon 
the system. ” 

“Or,” said Draque, laughing and with an eye upon 
the ridiculous, “tell a person to make a glutton of 
himself, but to be sure not get sick at the stomach. ’ ’ 

After the laugh subsided, Jabez thoughtfully con- 
tinued : 

“Alcohol is bound to effect every one that takes it. 
Not all in the same way, that’s true — it ’ill go into one 
man’s knees and his feet ’ill not carry him ; he’ll topple 
right over into the gutter. The same amount ’ill go 
straight to another man’s head, and make a blamed 
fool out of him. ’ ’ 

“Like the mercury,” said Draque. “It sometimes 
goes up and sometimes down. I suppose that depends 
upon whether the man is warm or cold-blooded. ’ ' 


ISAAC BRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


137 


“You’ve got me now, Draque,” said Jabez; “I can’t 
say what it depends on any more than I can say why 
it is that one man of a family dies of one disease and 
another man of the same family of a disease altogether 
different. A third man might take the same amount, 
and, as far as you or I could see, do him no harm for 
the present — a positive good he will tell you it does 
him. Boys, it may take a long time to knock a man 
like that off his pins, but I’ve seen such men go down 
in a pile at last. Besides, he’s the dangerous man in 
every community. We’re not likely to have much 
respect for the man that makes a blamed fool of him- 
self, or the one that sprawls in the gutter. Nobody’s 
inclined to follow their example, but the man that 
claims he’s alcohol proof and is trying to prove it to 
the world day by day, is likely to have a great many 
admirers, and the outcome of it all is, a very great 
many of those admirers will be forced to accept charity 
at the hands of the government, in the shape of striped 
suits and three meals a day for an indefinite period. ’ ’ 

Draque and Tobe looked at J abez as if he had gone 
“clean crazy.’’ They had never heard such a tirade 
from him before, and that it was applicable to them- 
selves was certain ; but neither moved a peg from the 
old position regarding the non-alcohol question Jabez 
so vigorously championed. But there was nothing in 
that to cause the least wonder, for with the majority 
conviction does not spring into being at once, but 
creeps, like the vine on the wall, so slowly that it is 
hardly noticed from day to day. But as the season 
draws to a close it covers the whole wall. 

Jabez took advantage of their surprise and con- 
tinued: “There are a good many degrees of drunken- 
ness, like different shades of the same color, and often- 
times the man you see walking straight is a very 


138 ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 

dmnken man, ready to deal a death blow to the first 
one that crosses his path or provokes his anger. They 
are called criminals, I know, and punished accordingly, 
and I tell you, friends, there’s not a family in the land 
that hasn’t had some member or other such a criminal, 
at some time past or present. ’ ’ 

Still taking advantage of the silence, Jabez said: 
“You had a brother in the East, Tobe, that was not 
thought just as good a man as you were and it all 
came from the different effect what he drank had on 
him. I knew him, and he was gone then, too, when 
I’d swear he didn’t drink a drop more in the day than 
you did. ” 

At mention of his brother, long dead in disgrace, the 
muscles of Tobe’s mouth twitched visibly. Jabez 
noticed the emotion, and, repenting, said : 

“You know, Tobe, I had no intention of wounding 
your feelings. ’ ’ 

Tobe seemed ashamed of the weakness that be- 
trayed to Jabez he still had a feeling of brotherly 
love for the dead man who had so disgraced the family 
that every member had resolved to wipe his image 
and memory from their hearts forever, and replied 
quickly : 

‘ ‘ I know, I know. ’ ’ 

Jabez was not inclined to drop his subject, which he 
resolved to handle without being so personal, for there 
was still a twinge in his heart on account of the pain 
he saw he had given Tobe. He said : 

“Certain we can say it, it is drink that fills our pris- 
ons, and makes slaves of our brothers, and yet we are 
inclined to look at it all in as matter-of-fact a way as if 
nothing could be done to prevent it. I hear a great 
deal about temperance, but I don’t think they’ve got 
at it quite. The people who advocate that temper- 


ISAAC DRAQUE, the BUCKEYE. 


139 


ance is a good thing are far astray. It’s the moderate 
drinker, the temperate man, if you will, that sets the 
bad example. One temperate man does more in the 
line of leading others astray, than a dozen hard drink- 
ers, and the wider he is known, and the more respon- 
sible his position, the greater enemy he is of his race. ” 

Tobe looked in astonishment, and said: 

“You’re putting it a little too strong, Jabez. Our 
minister will talk of the love of Jesus over a cup of 
wine, and I never heard any man say yet, that his ex- 
ample tended to lead astray. ’ ’ 

Tobe then turned away from Jabez, and directed 
his question to Peggy, as if expecting her to judge of 
the merit or demerit of social drinking, and evidently 
expecting a reply favoring his views — for conscien- 
tious Tobe could see no wrong in doing as the blessed 
Savior did. 

“They drank wine in our Savior’s time, and will 
anyone say today that a little social drinking is a bad 
example. ’ ’ 

Jabez, not waiting for Peggy to reply, said: 

“You know that there were bond and free in our 
Savior’s time, Tobe, and yet you can say, and with 
truth, that slavery is wrong.’’ Tobe made no reply. 

Peggy was now prepared to say what she thought, 
and spoke accordingly: 

“They ate bread in our Savior’s time, Tobe, and 
we’re very certain the bread of today is an entirely dif- 
ferent article ; they may have had leaven bread in those 
days, ’tis true, but the mills wern’t in operation, and 
the flour must have been different, and we can count 
upon it as certain too, that the wine was a different 
article. You see, there were no brewers and bottlers in 
those days, that we have any account of — the process 
they put the juice through nowadays does the mischief. ’’ 


140 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


Peggy continued: “I think, myself, a little juice 
squeezed from the grape a day or two before it was 
needed must be sweet, and harmless — but the stuff 
that boils up before it’s corked has the poison in it. ” 

“I told you long ago, Tobe, ” said Jabez, “that no 
one knew better than Peggy how the hammering and 
working up of one thing turned that thing into some- 
thing else.” 

Jabez, still having his own idea before him, said: 

“The whole flock look upon the minister as a man a 
little above the ordinary mortal, Tobe, and if he sips, 
I hold it he sets a bad example. Now I tell you the 
young that grow up under the influence of such a 
minister are apt to look upon drinking as a virtue, 
without a possibility of its being a vice, and the kinder 
and better and more gentle he is, the greater mischief 
he’s working among the flock, as all will listen to his 
teaching, and possibly try to follow his example. 
While the minister that’s not just so good, and lovable, 
but has a ‘doit or I’ll make you,’ or ‘do it or go to 
hell, ’ sort of way about him, may be counted upon as 
having to preach to empty benches, and consequently 
should he advocate moderate drinking by word, or ex- 
ample, he might do it with less woeful effects.” 

“You’re putting Draque to sleep, Jabez, with your 
long talk,” said Peggy, as she looked across the table 
at the quiet figure and bowed head of neighbor Draque. 

“No,” said Draque, “but he’s set me thinking. 
If what Jabez says is true, I’ve done as much as any 
man living to bring John Strand where he is. I was 
going to say more than any other man, but I can’t go 
ahead of Tobe there. Right at home is where you 
can open my eyes best. I can’t see things away off as 
plain as many another. Mother often told me, when 
I was starting for Hibe’s, that I could spend an even- 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. I4I 

ing in many another place as pleasant, if I only 
thought so, ^and have more in my pocket in the morn- 
ing, but I never liked to be niggardly about a little, 
and didn’t stop at that — but when Jabez tells me so 
plain that I did John a wrong, and mebbe many an- 
other man, I’m ready to stop right here. ” 

“I’m glad to hear it, Draque. Now your wife can 
lay by the money that’s in your pocket in the morning 
for a new house, ’ ’ said Peggy, brim full of smiles. 
Jabez looked at Peggy’s radiant face, and exclaimed: 

“You appear to be as happy over it as if it was your 
own money you were counting, Peggy. ’ ’ 

“Tobe and I have been about even in the laying up 
business,” said Draque, “while Tobe went way ahead 
of me in trying to make the black man as free, and 
happy as ourselves. Now I’ll do what I long blamed 
you for doing, Jabez, I’ll never darken that door again. ’ ’ 
Draque pointed in the direction of the imposing 
structure — the outgrowth of the miserable little hut 
that some years before looked as if a half dozen stal- 
worth men could readily shoulder and walk off with. 

“I never put a brick in the wall,” said Jabez, his 
eye following the direction of Draque ’s finger, “and I 
never left anything undone in my life I’m as proud of. ” 
Tobe arose, which was a signal for departure. 
Draque was upon his feet that minute, saying: 

“You’re not going alone, are you, Tobe?” 

“I believe the custom in those parts is for all that 
are going the same way to start at once,” replied 
Tobe. 

“So here goes,” said Draque, as the two stepped out 
the door together, wishing the family good-night. 
When they were well on their way Draque said, as his 
memory carried hird back to wilder times: “The walk 
across the fields after night always does me good. ’ ’ 


142 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


They were now keeping along a fence that' separated 
two farms. As they looked across the fence at the 
great shocks of corn Draqne continued: “*[ never saw 
anything as thick as the trees on that north lot; in 
places a man could hardly push between them ; it took 
many a hard knock to get them out of there, I can tell 
you. ” 


CHAPTER XIV. 


About a fortnight after Tobe and Draque had met 
at Jabez’s, a number of neighbors were assembled 
there again. The conversation was varied, and their 
opinions as varied. In small matters no two were sup- 
posed to -think just alike, as no two would see precisely 
the same small object upon casting a first glance over 
a landscape. The eye of one might rest upon a tuft 
of grass, and the other upon the clover, while a third 
happening along and looking a little higher would see 
the insect hovering over both, which was altogether 
lost to the other two. That both tuft of grass and 
clover blossom graced the landscape were facts the 
third may not have wished to deny, but the insect that 
might sting and destroy both the former did not see 
till shown. 

But with important things, as with larger objects, it 
was supposed to be different — such were believed to 
be not altogether out of sight of all reasonable well 
meaning men. If a castle, on a cataract, was on a bee 
line from the window opening on the landscape, they 
would not escape the notice of the three men supposed 
to be surveying the scene. Here the trouble would 
not be that they did not see at all, but that they did 
not see in the same light, and in such cases it is a little 
more difficult to show. The one who brought the 
strongest argument to bear upon his views might hope 
to be able to convince his neighbor to a certain extent, 
and that certain extent means that reasonable men are 
supposed to acknowledge a mistake when convinced 
they have made one, and to act accordingly. Such be- 

143 


144 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


ing the mutual understanding, the men drifted for 
awhile from one thing to another, not any very especial 
interest being shown in anything until Klomp asked 
suddenly, as if a bright idea struck him : 

“Do you know what I believe?’ 

“No,” came the response in a deep musical tone 
from the neighbor so near, he may have felt the 
question directed to himself when, in fact, Klomp had 
no one in particular in view, while all looked the 
“no” that but one spoke. 

“I believe every man has his moods, and when the 
spell is on him he backs out of good resolutions in 
spite of himself, ’ ’ said Klomp. 

“Oh, is that all,” asked Draque, evidently as disap- 
pointed as he was aroused by the first remark of 
Klomp. 

“It may be a good deal,” replied Klomp, with a 
very wise look at Tobe. “I’ve missed you of late at a 
place not far from here, and when I see you back 
again what I’ve said about moods ’ill be verified.” 

Klomp again looked at Tobe, and both men smiled. 
The smile was of the positive kind, no inquiry about it. 

“You don’t ask me if the spell is likely to come over 
me,” said Draque, “but you plainly say it will.” 
Then, after a moment’s pause, he continued: “You’ll 
find yourselves the worst fooled men that ever lived, 
Draque doesn’t make up his mind to a thing in a 
hurry, but when he does it’s made to stay. ” 

“I believe you Draque,” replied Klomp, in a tone 
that manifested the belief in his former opinion 
shaken, “not saying that I ever disbelieved you, but I 
didn’t think till now that you ever changed your mind 
to any other than the mind you first started out with. ’ ’ 

“I don’t often do the like, it’s true, ” replied Draque, 
“but, as I said before, when I do it’s done.” 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


145 


“Hibe’s to have a special blow out some of those 
nights, wouldn’t that be an inducement,” asked one 
of Hibe’s patrons, who showed himself particularly in- 
terested in his welfare. While asking the question he 
turned his eyes upon Draque. 

Jabez tossed his head with the air of a man who un- 
derstands things and said : 

“You’ll find him as set in his ways as Tobe has 
found him all along, depend on that. ’ ’ 

“Yes, and more so,” said Draque. “If it ’ill be any 
satisfaction for them to know it. I’ve said I’ll never 
darken that door again, and I’ll never go back on my 
word — never. ’ ’ 

“What’s Hibe done to you, Draque?” asked Klomp. 

“Nothing in particular,” replied Draque. “Mother 
said all along that he was keeping me in the cabin, 
but if I felt like staying there it was nobody’s business 
but my own. But I’ve my eyes opened to it at last. 
He’s robbed all of you as well as myself, and many in 
worse ways, and the most deplorable cases are those 
fellows you have the least sympathy for. The whole 
thing looms up before me — a big wrong, and I’m not 
in it.” 

“I’m sorry to see a man give up old social customs so 
easily,” said Tobe. “No matter how we disagreed 
upon other points, we never objected to drinking ‘good 
luck’ before.” 

“The trouble is, your eyes are set to look at things 
too far off, Tobe,” said Draque, “and mebbe after all 
it isn’t your fault. Jabez was reading the other night 
about telescopes, and if I can carry it straight they’ve 
made some to look at near stars and others to look at 
stars farther off. They’re gotten up too, I believe, 
something on the principle of the human eye, and I’ll 

put it this way,” continued Draque, chuckling with 
10 


146 ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 

laughter, “your telescope is a far-sighter and mine 
takes in what you’ve shot past without noticing. ” 

They were a company of men who enjoyed a joke, 
and particularly a joke on Tobe, who, while a great 
many did not believe or agree with him, they could 
not help considering him something of an oracle. That 
he and Jabez read more books and papers and were 
better posted in general outside of farming than the 
other neighbors, they were all willing to admit. They 
had no recollection of Draque ever before posing as 
teacher to Tobe, consequently the cheering for Draque 
was loud and prolonged. Peggy laughed heartily, and 
took time to raise her eyes often from the patch- quilt 
she was finishing with great painstaking for Meg. The 
quilt being made of alternate red and blue stars on 
a white background, quilted in the most approved 
manner, every stitch small and even, such as was the 
pride of the most fastidious housewife. After the mer- 
riment had subsided Klomp said; 

“I think Tobe is willing to drift in another di- 
rection. ’ ’ 

“Tobe doesn’t believe in drifting,” said Jabez. 
“He pulls out against the tide oftener than he goes 
with it. ’ ’ 

Eyes of different colors and penetration were cast 
upon Tobe, and his silence spoke approval of Jabez’s 
estimation of him. Whenever conversation flagged 
and interest in everything and all subjects was lost, 
Peggy came to the rescue. She had put the last stitch 
in the binding of the quilt, and, arising, gave it two 
or three vigorous shakes in order to disentangle all 
loose threads that might have lodged on the surface, 
and then, spreading it out in full view, asked: 

“How do you like the new quilt?’ 

“It’s a beauty,” answered Draque, stepping across 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


147 


the floor to take a corner of the quilt in his hands; 
“but I’m thinking you’ve missed it. You should have 
left the blue stars out and put the red ones on a sky- 
blue background.’’ He looked at the quilt from two 
or three different angles and said; “It strikes me, 
too, the red stars are a little too red ; a half dozen such 
red ones as you’ve got there would be enough. White 
ones, Peggy, on a sky-blue background, and you’d 
have hit it nearer. ’ ’ 

“Then we wouldn’t have to look so high, Draque', ’’ 
said Jabez, laughing; “we’d have the stars in all 
their glory right here with us. ’ 

“As I couldn’t make the picture complete without 
the moon,’’ said Peggy, “I think I did well to make 
it just as I did, and not burden my conscience with 
doing anything that would tend to hinder you folks 
looking upward. ’ ’ 

“That’s so, ’’ said Draque. “While you make things 
spin around lively here about the house, I think you’d 
have something to do to set the stars in motion on 
that same quilt. It’s the continuously going around 
part that takes my eye entirely. So, beauty and all 
as it is, we’ll still turn our eyes to the sky you took 
your pattern from.’’ 

A neighbor who sat in a dark corner lost for a mo- 
ment the vision of God everywhere seen in His handi- 
work, and said: 

‘ ‘ There are men today that claim they can prove by 
science that one thing grew out of another somehow, 
and no need of a creator. They claim, too, they know 
a deal more than the common herd, and that’s where 
they get ahead of us. They dig into the earth for 
their knowledge, and bring up things, and prove such 
and such, and we can’t contradict them. They claim 
the people that lived before them accepted every non- 


148 ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 

sense, and they’re coming right down to business and 
intend to root this nonsense all out. 

The speaker’s right-hand man looked at Tobe, evi- 
dently expecting him to clear away the difficulty. 
Neither were men who believed in the infidels’ theory 
completely, but were of the class willing to suppose 
such might be fact. They were not as capable of 
being anything in particular of themselves as some 
other men, but of the kind who are never wholly on 
one side or the other. Good-natured, well-meaning 
men they were, too. Tobe realized he was expected 
to speak and said : 

“We don’t have to dig as deep down as those fellows 
to prove there is a God. ’ ’ 

“No,’’ responded Klomp, not addressing Tobe but 
the two Tobe had spoken to. “Without digging down 
so deep there’s plenty on top to satisfy plain people 
like we are on that point. ’ ’ 

Tobe turned again to the two who had appealed to 
him for explanation, and said : 

“You needn’t be afraid of the man that comes to 
the front once in a while, and, because he finds layers 
of rock and such like in the earth, says, and probably 
with truth, it took hundreds of thousands of years to 
deposit just so, throws the Bible aside and says there 
is no God. For, of all the men on earth that have 
new ideas, he’s going to have the fewest followers. ’’ 

Draque had by this time come to conclusions of his 
own. He had not moved what some might call his 
stubborn head either to the right or left during the 
short conversation that followed his last speech about 
the star quilt. He turned his keen eyes upon the two 
men who seemed to waver in their belief and said : 

“I’ll wager the man that bobs up at various times 
and in various places and calls himself an infidel is 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


149 


bound to be a curiosity. ’ ’ He shifted his position in 
order to get a square look at neighbor Klomp, who 
sat a little back qf him to the left, and said: “He 
reminds me of that bay horse of yours, Klomp. ’ ’ Then 
turning back to his old place, as he did so taking in 
the whole company and at the same time grabbing at 
the knees of his trousers with such telling effect that 
when he felt satisfied with his position about two 
inches of the legs of his heavy cowhide boots were dis- 
played unto the beholders, he continued: “He’s a fine- 
looking animal, stands near sixteen hands high; he’s 
a good worker, and so gentle about the place that any 
of the children can handle him. To look at him you 
wouldn’t think there was anything in his make-up dif- 
ferent from any other horse. Outside the farm he 
carries himself well and jogs along at a nice gait until 
he comes to a boulder or a turn in the road, or some- 
thing his horseship doesn’t understand, where he stops, 
shies about for a while, and then kicks clean over the 
traces. You might drive all the horses in the neigh- 
borhood up to that very boulder and not one among 
them would see anything in it that would make him 
feel like cutting the same antics. ’ ’ 

“He thinks he’s come to the end of the road, does 
he, Draque?’’ asked Peggy. 

“Either that,’’ replied Draque. “or he’s come to the 
conclusion that, end or no end, it’s as far as he’s 
going. But the road is ahead all the same, and the 
bay is compelled to move on after the rumpus. If you 
happen by neighbor Klomp ’s the next day, you’ll find 
him in the pasture with his fetlocks cut and bleeding, 
and he’s what I call a crippled horse. ” 

“I’ve noticed,” thoughtfully observed Klomp, “that 
it’s the man that’s always burrowing in the ground that 
says ‘There is no God.’ Don’t let him scare you. 


150 ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 

Our burrowing animals are all little fellows ; they have 
neither the proportion nor the capabilities of animals 
that stay on top. They don’t stop in the sunlight 
long enough to get much inspiration from it. Cun- 
ning, mischievous little things they are, too; they 
scatter the dirt everywhere and make a great fuss. 
You can hardly put a thing away so secure that some 
of them don’t help themselves to it. The best morsel 
you might provide for your family they’ll not scruple 
to paw over and spoil. As I said, they are mischievous, 
cunning little things, and, have wonderful sagacity for 
their size, and like them, the men of burrowing dis- 
position are the tear-down and destroy kind. At 
least, some of them. When it comes to the progress 
that makes the best people on earth what they are 
today, they’re not in it.” 

Jabez was sitting near the window, and the conver- 
sation had sent his eyes wandering through the starry 
fields. He dropped them to the earth evidently to rest 
a while after his starry flight, then, turning his shoulder 
to the pane through which he had been looking, said ; 

“Neighbors, right here in our homes and cornfields 
we can see in many ways how one thing is evolved out 
of another ; but we know that, in order to bring those 
changes about, there must be an intelligent man or 
woman at the helm. In the homes we have made we 
have sheltered ourselves beneath the trees from the 
midday sun or turned to our cabins while it was sink- 
ing. We went forth in the morning with the rising 
of the same, and crossed from one neighbor’s house 
to another in the moonlight or with thousands of 
bright twinkling stars above. All the while we 
watched the seasons as they came and went, the mo- 
tion of the earth and heavenly bodies bringing the 
one out of the other. ’ ’ 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 15I 

Here he stopped, seemingly having either come to 
the end of what he had to say or being bewildered 
with the speed of the monster travelers that brought 
the seasons with them, and turned to the window 
again, to wander from star to star. Principal among 
all the bright ones shone Lyra, with a history dating 
back thousands of years. The celestial Lyra upon 
which Orpheus played when wild beasts were charmed, 
mountains came to the concert, and rivers stopped to 
listen to the heavenly sounds. Hell bowed unto the 
sweet strains of the musician, and granted his request, 
though conditional. Cygnus, with outspread wings, 
flew down the Milky Way, its conspicuous stars form- 
ing the sublime emblem of man’s redemption — whether 
the transformed musician, always near his loved harp 
— or Neptune’s son so changed — the theme of the 
poets of the far off days. Closer to the Pole, earth’s 
nearer neighbor, fiery Arcturus came rolling on — Arc- 
turus mentioned in Job. Jabez may not have bothered 
himself about going back so far, but there were the 
stars, and he as privileged to look upon them as 
were those of old. Lyra, with its countless millions 
of bright companions, moving on now as then, gov- 
erned by laws that fixed and propelled them in their 
course, consequently by Intelligence back of those 
laws as certain as that the movements about his house 
and farm were governed by the combined wills of 
Peggy and himself, he turned again to his neighbors 
and said: 

“We’ve watched the gigantic wheels of that pon- 
derous machinery as they turned round and round, 
and we’re not apt to become infidels when we feel in 
the marrow of our bones that there must be a Sublime 
Intelligence at the bottom of that stupendous motion, 
when it requires working intelligence to so arrange 


152 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


and adjust the little wheels of the ticker on the shelf 
so that they’ll turn around for twenty-four hours, or 
to bring the bit of butter that motion of the dasher 
evolves out of the milk and cream. ’ ’ 

For some moments not a word was spoken. The 
floor claimed the attention of all. Each was digesting 
according to his capacity what had been said. The 
man in the dark corner arose, walked to the window 
where Jabez sat and looked out upon the stars that 
had claimed his attention, and then probably as he 
thought of a prayer his mother taught him when his 
young heart believed and trusted, dashed from his eye 
a tear that came in spite of efforts to restrain it, and 
quietly stepped back to his seat. 

Women’s tears are common and not to be wondered 
at ; if they could be collected they would deluge the 
world. But Peggy, like all women, felt distressed 
when she saw a tear in a man’s eye — it looked so out 
of place. J abez read and thought a great deal, and 
was good, but he was not an emotional man. It 
was Braque’s tears for little Amanda that first bound 
her so completely to the family, but tears shed over 
the open grave are always pardonable tears, they dis- 
play no weakness. Peggy would have had a higher 
admiration for her neighbor did he manfully acknowl- 
edge he felt, as he certainly did feel, that in the face 
of all scientific researches God is still the Creator. But 
with the unthinking the tear may find favor on high, 
though they fail to manifest their faith in other ways. 
Braque was the first to raise his eyes and voice. He 
said, as he shoved his chair back and looked at his 
wavering neighbors : 

“Whatever else they may convince a man of in those 
parts they’ll never convince a man among us there’s 
no God, ’ ’ 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 153 

There was no opposition. He had voiced the faith 
of all. Peggy neatly folded and smoothed out the star 
quilt, the dumb instigator of all their reasoning, the 
bit of white and colored cotton that had raised their 
thoughts to higher things, and with proud dignity 
stepped to the next room, and laid it away in waiting 
for the morning stage-coach that would see the gift on 
the way to Meg. While Peggy was thus “laying by” 
the quilt, Klomp’s pleasant voice was heard, saying; 

“That new horse rake of yours, Jabez, is as fine as 
it is rare in those parts. ’ ’ 

“Yes,” replied Jabez, “the man that thought of 
giving all the work to the horses and saving our 
bones, now that we’re getting old, was a pretty clever 
fellow. ’ ’ 

“You’ll be getting one next, Draque,” asked Klomp. 

“Don’t be tormenting me that way,” replied 
Draque. “when I haven’t the money laid by that 
would buy it. ’ ’ 

“You should have commenced saving sooner, 
Draque,” said Tobe, still feeling regretful that they 
had taken their last “good luck” together. 

“Don’t twit me about what I should have done, ” 
said Draque. “At any rate, I’ve commenced sooner 
than you, and I’m very thankful it’s no worse with me 
than it is. ’ ’ 

Klomp had been considering the merits of the horse 
rake and said; 

“They’re wonderful fellows, and no mistake, that 
can get up a thing like that. ’ ’ 

“Yes,” replied Jabez, thoughtfully, “they get away 
with all of us managing. ’ ’ 

And capital managers those inventors are. They 
manage to take designs from the work of the Master, 
such as no other can, and therein consists the secret of 


154 ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 

their managing. The inventor looks at God’s creation 
and longs to grasp and imitate ; he constructs a tele- 
scope that refracts light, and his model is the human 
eye; he places it upon a pivot to facilitate its move- 
ments from one heavenly body to another, as the head 
is placed upon the spinal column. The hinge and ball 
and socket joints used in machinery are found in ani- 
mal bodies, and so on in the material world are in- 
stances almost without limitation from which the in- 
ventor has taken his model. 

But at the head of all inventors stands the Phoeni- 
cian. He is alone in this wonderful world, alive with 
his great ideas. His soul grasping for a medium 
through which he could impart to his fellows an idea 
of the something he felt working within himself. 
Neither lever, nor shepherd’s crook, nor any of the 
devices with which he was familiar would answer his 
purpose ; what he must invent must be something that 
will have neither bulk nor position — implements that 
the mind must work with and the soul express what it 
feels. Think what can be done with the twenty-six 
invented, insignificant looking little letters, the idea 
of which first stirred the mind of Cadmus in his now 
forsaken home. With them poets and historians and 
scientists, by arranging and rearranging, now placing 
this first and then last, have piled volume after vol- 
ume upon library shelves. The great variety of 
knowledge the student sets about to acquire is con- 
veyed to him through the medium of those small char- 
acters. Those little characters are the means by 
which we catch, and hold captive, one passing idea 
after another, and without which so many bright 
visions, veritable gifts of God, would be lost. 

Those letters are not like iron and brass and solid 
land; they have no permanent place, like tools in the 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


155 


mechanic’s chest, but are simple characters fixed in 
the mind, and out of which the poet must draw the 
beautiful ideal. The back ground of paper upon which 
he writes, and the pen and ink with which the char- 
acters are imprinted, bear no more resemblance to the 
idea expressed than does the oak, an expression of 
strength and grace, bear to the ground upon which it 
grows. The swinging of the woodman’s ax may level 
the oak and convert it into something else — while the 
elements that entered into its life and growth in dif- 
ferent proportions will produce other life, it may be 
the cowslip or something as weak and lovely, just as 
the different arrangement of letters from words that 
give different ideas. All those expressions of beauty 
and love ; those sublime expressions of God we behold 
springing up everywhere, on all sides, above and be- 
low are brought about by the different arrangement of 
a few elements by the Almighty Will. And those ele- 
ments into which scientists have resolved everything 
are plainly God’s letters, with which he fashions mar- 
velously through boundless space. He arranges and 
rearranges according to His own sweet will, and sends 
His message on the wings of the whirlwind either to 
build or to destroy. 

While all inventions bear a close resemblance to 
something created by God, those little characters have 
a close resemblance to the elements, out of which the 
visible world and everything in it is built ; they are the 
elements out of which the intellectual world must 
draw; they deal not so much with matter, but with 
mind. 


CHAPTER XV. 


In the dull, general routine of everyday life, progress 
appears to be a word of not much meaning. Matters, 
while being pushed in the desired direction, oftentimes 
to lookers on and also to those actually engaged in the 
pushing, appear to move so slowly, there might be reason 
to doubt they moved at all. It is only when the worker 
stands for a moment and looks back that he sees the 
great change the little by little has brought about. 
And such is particularly the case with those grand 
workers, who have left time and dollars and cents out 
of sight ; who look at the eternal and deal with the 
good, the beautiful and the right; who use the ma- 
terial in which they find themselves immersed as a 
means and not the end. 

Like the century living oak their work develops 
slowly, but surely, while the progress of those whose 
center is self, like the yearly plant springs up, de- 
velops, bears fruit and dies in twelve short months. 

Although the party with the name Abolitionist was 
of short duration, their principles became more univer- 
sal, and while the word Republican did not sound as if 
it had much interest in the slave, it possessed all the 
elements of the former party, with such a blotting out 
name and did not grate as harshly upon ears not in 
favor of the word abolish. 

Jabez and Tobe, Ike and his stage-coach companion 
stepped out under the new name Republican with every 
anti-slavery feeling as strong as ever. Draque jogged 
along an unwielding, conscientious Democrat, with 
many stanch friends on both sides. He had the same 
worshipful degree of administration for his eldest son, 

156 


ISAAC DRAQUE, tHE BUCKEYE. 


157 


Ike, but could never be persuaded by Ike’s conduct to 
turn his back upon the party he had so long before be- 
come one of, nor did Ike, by words, try to induce, his 
reverence for his father was such as would not permit 
open disagreement. 

hrom the present date they had three years to work 
and watch and wait before they could hope to place a 
chief executive officer of their choice in the chair. 
They plodded on day after day, much the same as they 
had been doing for years before. Ike was never for- 
getful of the slave he first learned to pity through the 
medium of the persuasive power of his stage-coach 
companion, and for the emancipation of whom he 
afterward pledged his life long help. As the years 
rolled by and the time drew near, when the strength 
of the party would be tested, the excitement was be- 
coming of unusual character. It seemed they never 
before had voted when so much was at stake. Former 
elections were mere mechanical processes to be gone 
through compared with this. Many men who had 
heretofore slumbered were aroused to what was plainly 
a sense of duty, imperative duty, and hence the enthu- 
siasm. 

Another defeat by a small majority, but not at all 
daunted they moved right straight on. The returns 
showed that while defeated they were steadily gaining. 

The anti-slavery feeling was now very strong, and 
nowhere was it stronger than among the very people 
who, twenty years before, did not care to meddle with 
a question, the outgrowth of which would have no 
direct bearing upon their respective homes. 

The question that had been uppermost with the 
great bulk of Republicans, the non-introduction of 
slavery into free states and territories, shortly after the 
election was settled with deadly effect. 


158 ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 

The Supreme Court of the United States decided that 
a slave in law is not a person, but a thing, and Con- 
gress has no right to prevent the owner conveying a 
thing from one state to another or to a territory. It was 
the decision that with the help of the Republican 
party at last severed the chains that had so long 
clanked such weird, discordant, hell born sounds to 
ears attuned to justice. 

Tobe is looking several years older than when last 
we saw him; with a slow, tired and weary step he 
crossed the field on the well trod path to his friend’s 
house; his pockets filled with papers containing the 
decision and preamble as to how it was brought about. 

Jabez looked at the man who first advanced, no 
slavery ideas among them, and who after his life long 
work seemed so disappointed, and said cheerily: 

“It’s not all up with us yet, Tobe; we can afford to 
wait a little longer; we’re young enough yet to see the 
end. ’ ’ 

“Yes,’’ said Peggy encouragingly, “we still hope the 
end is not as far off as some think it is. ’ ’ 

The “big engine’’ was no longer a thing of curiosity, 
but sped through what were once corn fields and po- 
tato patches unnoticed. They were accustomed to the 
rumbling of the wheels and the shrill whistle of the 
iron monster, and often did not even raise their eyes as 
the train went past. But tonight Jabez turned from 
Tobe before the word of cheer had scarcely fallen 
from his lips and listened, as the peculiar, distressed 
sound of the whistle fell again and again upon their 
ears, and asked: 

“What can it mean, Peggy?” 

“I can’t say indeed, Jabez,” replied Peggy. “I’ve 
never heard the like of it before. No train ever pulls 
up to whistle like that at the crossing. ’ ' 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


159 


“Well,” said Tobe, as he looked in the direction of 
the sound, “that’s uncommon, sure enough; they 
whistle as they near the crossing and have done with 
it. I never heard such a prolonged racket before. 
There’s something up, that’s certain,” continued 
Tobe, as he picked up his hat, and stepped toward the 
door. 

“It’s not at the crossing, either,” said Peggy, as she 
listened more intently; “and it’s at that I wonder. 
The train’s on its way through the fields far this side 
of the crossing. ’ ’ 

“It’s coming ahead, anyway,” said Jabez, as he 
stopped to listen again. “I think, Tobe, it would be 
a good idea to walk over there and see what this all 
means. ’ ’ 

“That’s just where I thought of making for,” re- 
plied Tobe, as he displayed the hat he had half hidden 
by his side. 

Jabez lifted his hat from the peg that was always 
empty when not holding the familiar hat each member 
of the family hastened to put in place when found 
out of that place by them. Simultaneously the two 
men put their hats upon their heads. Once outside 
they walked briskly toward their destination — the 
place from whence the startling sounds came. The 
train was out of sight and hearing. 

“There’s no stopping that for anything,” said Jabez. 

The spot could not be mistaken. As they neared it 
they saw the forms of other neighbors hurrying about 
in great excitement. The first neighbor recognized 
was Klomp, trembling and with a bushel basket that 
was evidently going to play a conspicuous part in 
something they were about to do. Jabez called out: 

“What’s the matter there, Klomp?” 

Klomp shook his head and replied : “A man has been 


l6o ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 

ground to pieces. ’ ’ Still looking at them he continued : 
“He’s scattered along the road nigh ten rods. Draque ’ s 
bringing a wagon on, but I could think of no other way 
of picking up the pieces than in this basket.” He 
looked half undecided at the basket he held in his 
hands and continued : 

“There’s no telling who the man is — fell off the 
train, I suppose. ’ ’ 

Just then he stooped and picked up a mangled arm. 
Across the track and between the ties lay a head with 
the torn, bleeding neck in the gravel — erect, as if the 
will that was once there had made a last effort to rise, 
and worse than ague chills crept over the three men 
as they looked at the ghastly find. They stared at 
each other, as if in the stare they meant to ask the 
question, “Which of us will pick it up?” 

They were religious. God-fearing men, unaccus- 
tomed to bloody scenes, men who in boyhood were 
taught and through life manifested their belief in the 
magnificent possibilities of the human soul. Jabez 
crossed the track and reverently took the head in his 
hands with the inborn feeling of every true man — 
“He may be a stranger, but he is none the less a 
brother. ’ ’ Evidently wishing to show regard for the 
will of the man so violently torn away, he carefully 
stood the head in the basket, in the position he had 
found it on the track, and while doing so the flickering 
light from the lantern revealed to him a face he well 
knew. His first sorrowful exclamation was: 

“It’s no stranger, friends;” 

The other two came closer to the basket to recog- 
nize the long familiar face of John Strand. 

“We needn’t ask how it happened,” said Jabez. 
“He was on his way from Hibe’s, and, whether he fell 
and couldn’t get up or was knocked down, doesn’t 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. l6l 

matter much now,” he continued regretfully, “but 
we’ll lay him away the best we can. ” 

Without further words the three proceeded to gather 
up the remains. Draque was now at hand with the 
wagon and they placed on some fresh clean straw the 
trunk and other fragments, and beside them the basket 
with the head upright as when found. 

There were no mourners awaiting John in the cabin 
that barely stood. The bottom log at the north end 
had crumbled entirely away, the second, in a falling 
condition, still retained solidity enough at the ends to 
support the cross logs in a very tottering way. Now 
that the last inmate was gone, it was ready to topple 
over with the first strong wind. That it had not done 
so long before was the wonder of all around. 

We are allowed to imagine that maybe the angels 
hovered near the place, and many a prayer poured forth 
from a Christian heart stayed the elements longer than 
it would seem reasonable from a purely natural stand- 
point. John’s wife had spent distressful years there, in 
tears and not forgetful of prayer. Peggy had said, “It 
couldn’t blow down while she lived, ” and Peggy had a 
wonderful trust in Supernatural Power intervening 
sometimes, even in those little things where reason 
points to certain effects which must necessarily be 
brought about by certain caqses. She had noticed 
during her life many strange things that could not be 
accounted for satisfactorily even to the inquiring mind ; 
events that some people would be pleased to call Provi- 
dential and others miraculous. Peggy had for some 
time stoutly asserted that the standing of John’s cabin 
was Providential. The over-sensitive woman, who had 
been sheltered in the cabin and existed upon the neigh- 
bors’ charity, gradually pined away, the victim of no 
bodily disease. Little Tim was dead. The other boys 


i 62 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYli. 


had left for different parts to battle for themselves. 
Winnie was in her Western home, and could neither 
come to her mother nor induce her to come to her, 
so she died as she lived, daily' wrestling with what 
the world called intemperance. 

The papers telling of the defeat that had made Tobe 
feel so dismal previous to the coming of the train, and 
which he meant to read with Jabez, hoping by so doing 
to find some opening through which his weary heart 
might see the shining mark, “no slave,” and still hope 
on, yet untouched, filled his pockets to the clumsy 
extent that, when he offered help in the unprecedented 
task before him, he found them in his way. 

John’s funeral was unceremonious to a barren de- 
gree. The minister thought, as John had kept away 
from him so long, it was but courtesy for him to re- 
main at home. Hiram Blank, for some reason or 
other, did not care about attending the funeral. Par- 
don is freely given to all who are charitable enough 
to think he had an attack of rheumatism or gout, and 
not that he never inconvenienced himself in any 
way when there was no prospect either near or remote 
of his ever taking in more of the shining beauties he 
received in exchange for what he sold. 

Jabez, Tobe, Draque and Klomp saw that John was 
placed as comfortable-looking as possible in the coffin 
they provided for him. They moved slowly away from 
the home they remembered as being once a cheerful 
and happy one — alas ! so long ago — and faced the grave- 
yard, the gift of Jabez and Draque, now not with a 
solitary grave but well filled. Every one in the com- 
munity had, since Draque ’s trial in leaving Amanda 
there alone with the winds and the storms, moved with 
sorrowful heart to the spot and left some dear one in 
the field, with the earth but a few times broken by 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 163 

the plowshare since the Creator fashioned it. Those 
passing the lonely corps pulled into the fence and, 
with uncovered heads, stood until the last had passed. 
In death no one offered less respect to the unfortunate 
in that way than to his more prosperous and respected 
brother in life. 

The absence of kith and kin was painfully notice- 
able beside the grave. No tears from a bereaved fam- 
ily or sobs from broken hearts. The sobs, the cabin 
walls might echo in the crash as the fatal wind hurried 
through. Tears had been shed over a long period of 
twenty years, and now the fountain was dry. The 
skeleton lying deep under ground beside the open 
grave now ready for John had shed the last tear, and 
as her life ebbed out thought of the Savior. 

The coffin was lowered into the grave. Draque took 
in the situation and was the first to speak. He said: 

“Neighbors, I can’t see a friend thrown into the 
grave like an animal. I think it would be well for 
you, Jabez, for you are well used to it, to offer a 
prayer. ’ ’ 

Jabez bowed his head and asked God to bless and 
take under His special care the members of the family 
so far away and yet in ignorance of the fate that had 
befallen their father. 

The work of undertaker, grave-digger and minister, 
which John’s few faithful friends, who stood by him 
and unselfishly performed, being over, they fitted in 
and slapped with the backs of the shovels the last 
green sod into place, and looked again at the grave 
to be sure there was nothing left undone that would 
tend to make the new grave as trim-looking as others 
that were recently made. Feeling certain all was 
done, they quietly laid their shovels down, and, turn- 
ing to where their coats were hanging on a near fence 


164 


ISAAC BRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


that inclosed Draqne’s burying place, with all the 
quiet dignity the occasion required, and filled with 
emotions as ennobling as ever spring up in the un- 
selfish human heart, save one supreme emotion — the 
love of God — slowly put them on. 

Tobe, apparently unconscious of what he was doing, 
moved perhaps by the force of habit, laid his hand on 
his coat in the region of a pocket, still filled with the 
three-days’ -old papers, that carried to his heart such 
bitter disappointment. 


CHAPTER XVL 


We can never surmise in what way comfort will 
come. The one channel of escape open to Tobe from 
thoughts of the stripes and degradation of the brother 
in bondage was the vivid picture of the terrible fate 
of their old and lifelong friend. And yet he saw not 
with Jabez that responsibility might not rest wholly 
with John, but that even he had fostered the black 
demon that was not, like slavery, restricted to one 
locality, with the dreadful prospect of a possible spread- 
ing, but was already throughout the length and breadth 
of the land well rooted, and sadder still, with so few 
really good men at all alarmed or in any way opposed 
to it. 

They shouldered their shovels and walked away, 
each man to his home. U pon his arrival home Draque ’ s 
heart was lifted out of the melancholy region it had 
throbbed in for the few days previous at meeting Ike, 
who had learned from his mother that Draque was 
performing the last act of kindness he ever could per- 
form for poor John Strand. 

Ike’s sympathies were not with John, nor could he 
now forgive him for being principal in the scene that 
long before caused such feelings of disgust for the 
man to arise in him beside the coffin of little Tim. 

Draque greeted Ike, and, after inquiries concerning 
himself ' and family were answered, he proceeded to 
repeat the story he had gone through so often in his 
mind in the past few days. Ike manifested a little 
impatience at the recital, but withal respectfully lis- 
tened until Draque had told to the end the oft-repeated 


l66 ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 

truth. Involuntarily Ike’s bowed head was raised; 
he fixed his eyes upon a picture on the wall, as if 
trying to divert his attention in some way from the 
subject his father had so much at heart, but said noth- 
ing. An observer might notice the expression of his 
handsome face was that of neither sorrow nor pity, 
but quiet indignation that followed John to the grave 
with the feeling — “He ought to have been buried long 
ago, and buried deep. ’ ’ 

For a few moments Draque thought some very mel- 
ancholy thoughts and Ike continued in his very indig- 
nant reverie. A painful silence was something Draque 
never could endure, at least in his own family. He 
looked directly at Ike and said: 

“The poor fellow will never bother us any more.” 
He stopped choked with emotion, then continued, “that 
is, if we can ever cast from our minds the last trouble 
he was. ’ ’ 

The picture on the wall had been carefully studied, 
Ike turned his head to look at his father and said care- 
lessly : 

“The world is the better for being rid of him.” 
After a moment’s pause he continued with a little more 
earnestness in his manner; “I was never able to un- 
derstand how 3^011 could let your sympathy for that 
man so completely run away with you, father. ’ ’ 

As Ike had come unexpected, his mother had been 
bustling about during the conversation with his father 
preparing to give him a little reception “above the 
common. ’ ’ She had laid out the best table cover, and 
was brushing up and putting things in order to per- 
fection. As she happened to look at Draque, she de- 
tected a sad expression he never wore in Ike’s pres- 
ence, and said to him in the best of spirits : 

“Don’t take others trouble too much to heart, fa- 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


167 


ther, being it’s all over, and yon can do no more for 
him, let it drop/’ Then turning to the table she 
said: 

you’d help me put in a leaf in the table here, I’d 
like it.” 

‘‘Yes,” said Draque, rising to give the desired help, 
and laughing to satisfy those he knew would be 
pleased to see the old good humor return, “we must 
manage to give Ike elbow room for the little time he’s 
to be with us. ’ ’ 

“If it’s for me you are going to all that trouble, re- 
torted Ike, I would be better pleased to see you both 
with your hands folded. • ’ 

“He’s trying to persuade us, mother,” said Draque, 
“that he can crowd himself into a corner like he could 
when he was a lad here with us, but there’s an old 
man about he can’t fool a bit more than he could 
then.” 

Whether the remark brought to Ike’s recollection 
any little tricks he had tried to play upon his father in 
the days spoken of or not, no one was made the wiser ; 
he smiled and bit his lip as he arose, and moved his 
chair to a more convenient place. 

The convenient place was close to a small table, 
upon which he laid a flask he had just taken out of his 
satchel; he helped himself to glasses and proceeded to 
fill for his father and himself. When Draque saw 
what he was about he interrupted him saying: “You 
needn’t fill for me, Ike.” 

Ike laid the glass upon the table in such a hurry the 
rattle echoed his surprise, half frightened his mother 
and caused Draque to look steadily at Ike, who was yet 
bent upon scrutinizing him. 

“What’s the matter with you, Ike,” asked his 
father. 


i68 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


“That’s just the question I was going to ask you, 
father, but you are ahead of me, ’ ’ replied Ike. 

“Well, the matter with me is just this,” said Draque, 
“I’ve given it up altogether, and am sorry I ever be- 
gun.’’ 

Ike, still longing to drink a cheery glass with his fa- 
ther, said: 

“I remember it was the stuff, father, on a cold or a 
damp day, with a log to turn over three or four times 
your size.” 

He looked at his father, and seeing no relax move- 
ment that would indicate his willingness to touch the 
glass in waiting, continued : 

“It answered the purpose exceedingly well, too, on 
a hot day when the sun, for a few hours, wilted the 
weeds and crops alike. I’ve seen the time, father, 
when everything appeared to be drooping but your- 
self. The cattle had not ambition enough left in them 
to feed any longer, but sheltered themselves under the 
trees by the pond. ’ ’ Ike picked up the glass, and 
while holding it between his eyes and the light, said : 

‘It helped you push ahead at such times don’t you 
think, father?” 

“I’ll be candid, Ike,” replied Draque, with all the 
earnestness of the man Ike so well understood. “I 
believe the pushing was much like the stone rolling 
down hill ; it kept a man going, but in the end to find 
it was the wrong way. Jabez kept going about as 
well as I did, and to a better advantage; if he didn’t 
push as steady he made better use of the resting 
places; he*s ahead of me today, and with less help 
from the boys than I had. ’ ’ 

“We can^t expect, father, that all will prosper alike; 
that is impossible, ’ ’ said Ike, in a tone full of consola- 
tion. “Your children come home as light hearted and 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


169 


happy to visit you in the cabin as his do to visit what 
you call their more comfortable home. All the pleas- 
ant recollections of my home life are here. I’d feel 
like a stranger in another house did you have one. ’ ’ 
“There are 'other things,” said Draque, thought- 
fully, “as well as being still in the cabin, and mebbe 
more so that set me thinking, and taught me a lesson. 
As I’m getting old, Ike, L’m taking the time to look 
about me a little, and I see the sad winding up of so 
many that the love of drink grew on in spite of them- 
selves. John’s not the only one whose story would 
make any man’s heart bleed. ” 

“I see precisely the trouble, father,” said the again 
indignant Ike, but in the most gentle manner, “You 
are so tender hearted you let the life and miserable 
ending of that wretched scapegrace take the comforts 
out of your own. ’ ’ 

“Father was always steadfast, Ike,” said his mother. 

‘ ‘ I spent many a day trying to make him save his 
times and not be throwing them in to Hibe, but he 
wouldn’t listen till of late; he said he’d never stop a 
thing till he felt he was wrong. The feeling came to 
him at last, and I’m thankful.” 

Ike looked at his mother, and laughing said: “So 
you have started a home treasury have you, mother?” 

“I’ve seen the time often when I’d like to have a 
little more in it than I had, ’ ’ said his mother with a 
proud smile, “and one of those times was when you 
were going to the college. I’d like to have had 
enough in it to see you go without your ax. ’ ’ 

“Oh, well, mother,” said Ike, “those were dark 
days, surely, but they are over, and it’s possible I’m 
the better for having been obliged to swing the ax. 
A man must develop muscle, as well as brain. A 
vigorous mind in a frail body is the exception. And 


176 tSAAC DRAQUE, THE BtJCKEVE. 

in a world where there is so much to be done and so 
many helpless, I prefer the method of development 
that will yield return in both ways ; say, for instance, 
a brawny arm, and a cord of wood or a pile of corn — 
to the senseless way of striking out with dumb bells, 
with the half harvest — muscle alone. So don’t worry, 
mother, about the dimes father spent and you did not 
have for that purpose. You may be thankful I didn’t 
have a chance to develop any of the lazy inclinations 
that may have been in me. ’ ’ 

“You’d have a hard task before you, Ike, to con- 
vince me such inclinations were ever in you, ’ ’ said his 
father, who during Ike’s talk with his mother alter- 
nately rested his eyes upon Ike, and the glass still 
filled, Ike was toying with in his strong right hand. 
“But I tell you again I’ve learned a lesson. The stuff 
you have there does mighty bad work. ’ ’ 

“You have learned the lesson too late, father,’’ was 
Ike’s jovial reply, as he raised the glass to his lips, 
and drained to the last drop. There was a charm 
about his manner that would tempt any young man to 
imitate, but his father was never to be tempted in 
that way again. He said to Ike as he arose : 

“As you took the trouble to fill a glass for me I’ll 
see that it’s emptied. ’’ He took the glass, and walked 
to the door, looked around and turned back saying : 

“I’ll not throw it on the grass for fear it ’ill kill it. ” 
He then made his way to the back door, saying as he 
went, “I’ll find a bare spot where the grass doesn’t 
grow. ’ ’ 

He returned with the empty glass and laid it down 
beside Ike’s. Ike looked at his father, and laughed 
aloud ; the laugh had the real old time boyish ring in 
it that went to the heart of both parents alike. He 
said to his mother : 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE B'UCKEVE. I7I 

“Father always had the reputation among the 
neighbors of saying and doing queer things, but I 
never could see a ridiculous thing he ever did till now. 
It is all right though, father,” he continued, “I re- 
spect your opinions as much as ever.” 

He hesitated, and after a few indescribable move- 
ments that could not be called nervous, but were based 
on his longing to still obey what he knew to be his 
father’s wish, and a dislike to giving up what he con- 
sidered not merely a comfort, but a real necessity, 
said : 

But I cut loose so long ago you don t expect me to 
do as you do, father. ’ ’ 

“You’re your own boss, Ike, but nonetheless, I 
wouldn’t like to see harm come to you for that rea- 
son, ’ ’ replied his father. 

“You are completely carried away, father, because 
some you had the misfortune to call friends ran the 
thing into the ground. You need never be afraid one 
of your family has so little determination that he is 
going to be unmanned in any such way, ’ ’ said Ike, as 
he tightened the cork in the flask and laid it away in 
his satchel. 

Draque spoke not a word, but watched until Ike had 
turned the key and made all secure for the return 
trip, when he said; 

“I’m sorry I hadn’t something more pleasant to talk 
about in the last hour, but sit to the table, Ike, until 
mother and I see how it is with the elbow room. ” 

Ike took the offered place, and Draque said, after 
taking a survey of Ike and then looking at mother : 
“I hope he’ll have as plenty of everything else. ” 

“I always managed to have enough on the table,” 
retorted Mrs. Draque, apparently not complimented 
by the remark. 


72 


ISAAC DRAQUE. THE RUCKEYE. 


“In the face of father’s savings bank down at Hike's 
you did will, didn’t you, mother,’’ asked Ike with a 
mischievous smile. 

“Yes, and I had a little account there for you once, 
and that’s what I’m most ashamed of,’’ retorted 
Draque. 

“Oh, well, father,’’ replied Ike in his most fasci- 
nating way, “you soon taught me to settle my own 
accounts, and that is something you have reason to be 
proud of. ’ ’ 

Ike had a quick mathematical mind that did not jar 
in the least with its other fine qualities. Without 
opening his lips he subtracted his father’s account at 
Hike’s from an account he settled elsewhere, and con- 
templating the round figures over and above, shrugged 
his shoulders as he asked himself the question : 

‘‘What would mother think of that?’’ 

He still continued soliloquizing in a mathematical 
way, but turned the figures into an account of an en- 
tirely different nature. Such colossal figures as these 
loomed up before him. 

“There are four millions of people in bondage in our 
free country for whose liberty I can cast but one vote, 
and father will knock that vote out. ’ ’ He looked at 
the opposite corner of the table and continued his 
reverie : 

“How strange it is that a sensible man like father 
can let the death of such a wretch as John Strand take 
the pleasure out of his life. I felt years ago as I feel 
now — that fellow ought to be shoved somewhere out 
of sight.’’ His thoughts ran on as he arose. “But 
father has as few faults as any man living, and with 
pleasure I respect his whims. ’ ’ 

“Are you off, Ike?’’ asked Draque, as Ike, after 
leaving the table, remained standing. 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


173 


“I will be, very shortly,” replied Ike, looking at his 
mother’s time piece on the mantle and then at his 
own, to be certain there could be no mistake. “I was 
not thinking about making this call when I left home, 
but found I could stop off awhile, and reach the place 
I had in view in time for a trial at which I am ex- 
pected to be present. ’ ’ 

As Ike replaced his own time piece, he looked again 
at the old clock, whose loud ticking was among his 
earliest recollections of sound. It had outlived many 
a cricket that had joined with it in concert in the even- 
ings of past years. 

Some sad spell touched his heart, such a spell as is 
likely to come to any one, even in most happy mo- 
ments — a spell one never can trace to a particular 
cause, as the self-same cause may have been often con- 
templated before with no such effect. In his soul Ike 
experienced a struggle, but why he could not tell. No 
sad memories hung over that home, only that he had 
gone out from it forever. 

Draque seemingly understood Ike’s feelings and 
said; 

‘ ‘ It has measured off a good portion of our lives, 
Ike, yours and mine. If the little thing keeps on a 
few years longer it will have done all it can do for 
mother and me. When I was like you, if I thought 
about it at all they would have been but gloomy 
thoughts, but since Amanda was carried out I often 
see my place, and it has led me to think about what’s 
beyond. ’ ’ 

Ike looked at his mother, and with .a cheerful smile 
said; 

“It’s all over, that sting, whatever it meant; maybe 
father can tell.” He reached forth his hand, said 
“good-bye” to both and left. 


CHAPTER XVIL 


The following three years were years of hard and 
earnest work for Ike. He was overcrowded with his 
professional work, yet with energy enough left to de- 
vote much time to his life object that in shining char- 
acters appeared to his stout heart everywhere. The 
bright sunlight could not lessen their luster, and the 
somber shades of evening brought them out with such 
distinctness that the midnight hour often struck be- 
fore Ike was able to close an eye on account of their 
all absorbing brightness. The characters arranged 
read: Freedom for the slave. 

As he drove his spirited horse from town, along 
country roads leading to smaller towns, as he often 
did, either to excite sympathy for the slaves in the 
masses, or to raise his voice for a candidate of the 
parties’ choice, he turned over and over in his mind 
such reflections as these : 

‘ ‘ How many there are who spoil their lives bother- 
ing about and worrying over little things, and are 
afraid to attack a great evil, simply because that evil 
is well rooted — and worse, bids fair to become univer- 
sal. When the situation is placed before them, they 
investigate rather timidly, imploringly look at the big 
slaveholder, and calculate the dollars it must take to 
keep the big wheel of his machinery going ; then, they 
deferentially step back, and politely bowing say : ‘ How 
do you do, Mr. Slaveholder. ’ They are overpowered 
with figures they think it impossible to contend with 
successfully. They take into consideration the uncer- 
tain influence of the individual with pockets compara' 

174 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 175 

tively empty, and are willing at the same time to both 
acknowledge the evil and drop their hands powerless 
by their sides. Notwithstanding all such obstacles 
our party is making wonderful strides. The human 
heart throbs in sympathy, every pulsation must neces- 
sarily bring us nearer the Creator’s idea. But those 
to whom the light is given must work. Motion is the 
universal condition of all good. The stagnant water 
breeds disease. The unused muscle becomes flabby. 
The frost that finds its way into everything not shel- 
tered against it ; the rain that comes in torrents ; the 
penetrating rays of the sun, and the wind that sweeps 
over valley and hill are motive powers that render the 
earth habitable. 

Ike reached for his whip, not to strike the horse, 
but to crack it a few times in the air, as if a more 
stirring movement of some kind on his part would 
hasten the desired result he so clearly foresaw. 

The horse started out at even a livelier gait. If it 
were possible for horse flesh to interpret a master’s 
thoughts, Ike’s horse was surely an expert, for he 
bounded on with the same intent, which was to reach 
town as soon as possible. Ike continued his reverie as 
he sped on. 

“The shackles are bound to fall from the slave. 
Our people cannot live on so regardless of justice. 
Right is certain to poll a majority at last. ’’ 

As he journeyed on he could not help observing the 
changes that had taken place in the last few years. A 
part of the road over which he traveled was the old 
stage-coach road he was so familiar with when a boy; 
it was then in its young days and every plank was 
sound. The toll gates at almost regular intervals 
along the way were the equipped money banks where 
the traveler dropped his pence for the repair of said 


176 ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 

road, and when a plank was broken or out of place it 
was thrown out or made solid as the occasion required. 
But now the toll gates were tumbling down affairs, 
with no one near to collect the toll. Other and better 
highways were in operation, and what was once the 
road was no longer the state’s boast. Ike steered 
clear of the broken planks, and could see between 
watching the road ahead that thrifty homes and gar- 
dens had everywhere taken the places of the towering 
trees that had shaded the roadside, and gave such 
wild, picturesqueness to the scene that everywhere 
met the eye of the young Ohio traveler of stage-coach 
fame. He heaved a farewell sigh for the little squirrel 
and chip munk that, like the aborigines, had been 
compelled to go farther back to find the shelter nature 
provided them in the forest trees. The roadside cow 
was getting scarce ; the land everywhere was mine and 
thine, and no freedom allowed trespassers. Poor 
Brindle and Spot and Black and White had to restrict 
themselves to their owners’ pastures. 

Ike turned to the left upon another road that would 
bring him through the heart of the town, and direct to 
the court house square, where he expected to address 
an unusually large audience, the occasion of such be- 
ing attendance at the county fair. He was expected, 
and mounted a platform built for his accommodation 
in the public square, where, in the open air, he had 
ample opportunity of testing his lung power to its 
fullest capacity. The enthusiasm that glowed in the 
faces of his hearers ; the hurrahing and waving of hats 
proved he was fast getting around to the big side 
again, which side he had never had the pleasure of be- 
ing on, since his memorable stage-coach ride, when 
his heart told him he could never again conscien- 
tiously vote according to his father’s wishes. 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


177 


The words he uttered that day have dropped for- 
ever from memory, but the impression made upon the 
people can never be forgotten. The following spring 
a candidate was to be named, and whoever that can- 
didate might be fully two- thirds of Ike’s hearers re- 
solved that their votes would be cast with him. 

Tobe, Draque and other neighbors gathered their 
harvest in as of late, which means that machinery now 
helped in many ways, where, in their earlier experi- 
ence, they were obliged to depend upon their own 
two hands and the neighbors’ help. Peggy had dis- 
carded the stone churn with the dasher, and had in its 
place a crank, which she took great pleasure in show- 
ing to all who called. Tobe came around this evening 
at early dusk, and found Jabez and Peggy leisurely 
reading. 

“Oh, ho, Peggy, has it come to this that you have 
nothing to do ; you who are above all others so indus- 
trious?’’ questioned Tobe. 

“It doesn’t take me as long to churn, and in many 
other ways I find things easier than when first I laid 
eyes upon you, ’ ’ replied Peggy very pleasantly. 

“We’re all getting old, and it would be a bad out- 
look if we had to work as hard as we had in those 
times, ’ ’ said Tobe. 

Jabez was deeply engrossed with the news, and had 
merely lifted his head to salute Tobe upon his arrival, 
and again riveted both eyes and attention upon the 
paragraph before him, which he finished with the last 
remark of Tobe sounding in his ears; he laid down the 
paper, lifted the glasses from his nose, and, holding 
them between the finger and thumb of his left hand, 
looked at Tobe and said : 

‘ ‘ I should say we are getting old, Tobe, and if wc 

miss the mark this time, we’ll be likely to miss the 
12 


lyS ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 

votes of some of the old settlers, when the time comes 
round again. ’ ’ 

“We’re not going to miss it,” said Tobe. “I never 
saw livelier times nor more encouraging signs in all 
directions in favor of anything that was about to hap- 
pen. All along I felt that slavery should be done 
away with, but now something tells me it will. ’ ’ 

Jabez turned over the paper he had been reading, 
and not without considerable pride in his countenance, 
looked from it the second time at Tobe, saying : 

‘ ‘ I see Ike is out stumping. ’ ’ 

“Yes,” replied Tobe, “and better still, he’s not out 
for nothing. The people that flock to hear him can’t 
be called a handful, and it’s plain to be seen, too, that 
the bulk of them, either do already or are preparing 
to think as he does. ’ ’ 

“It often appeared to me strange,” said Peggy, as 
she manipulated the rocker with unusual energy, 
“that he can impress other people so wonderfully and 
can do nothing with his own father. ’ ’ 

“The Draques are the toughest timber in the coun- 
try,” returned Tobe in a very spirited manner. “No 
man can do anything with Draque when he’s made up 
his mind that no man shall. ’ ’ 

“I believe with all that,” replied Jabez, “that 
there’s not a man among us more conscientious. And 
I think, too, Ike doesn’t bother him — they are a 
strange family that way and very considerate. I be- 
lieve Ike would drop the whole campaign, much as he 
has it at heart, before he’d hurt his father’s feelings.” 

“After all,” continued Jabez, after some moments’ 
meditation, “there’s nothing unreasonable about 
Draque; he never interfered with Ike’s convictions, 
and is as proud of his fine speaking, I dare say, as I 

' ) 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


179 


“I know that’s all true,” replied Tobe, “but I get a 
little nettled sometimes when people won’t and can’t 
be made see that a great injustice is being done to 
others. ’ ’ 

“I never heard Draque say it wasn’t an injustice, 
Tobe,” said Peggy, vindicating Meg’s father-in-law, 
‘‘but he stands by it; he can’t see any good he can do 
or the Republican party either, and from that stand- 
point he’s inclined not to meddle.” 

“The Republican party ’ill soon show him what it can 
do,” replied Tobe, as he exhibited all the animation 
of his most enthusiastic moments. 

Draque was being ushered in during Tobe’s remark, 
and while he did not catch the words, he was not slow 
in noticing he was the possessor of some very ani- 
mating thoughts, and said : 

“You’re getting spry for an old man, Tobe.” 

“The joke’s on you though, Draque, ” said Jabez, and 
both he and Tobe joined in a good old-fashioned laugh. 

“I’ll wager they’re sorry jokes you crack on a man 
when he’s not about to hear them,” replied Draque. 

“Don’t mind them, Draque,” said Peggy, hand- 
ing him a chair; “they’re not likely to crack many 
jokes on you now that you’re here. ” 

Draque took the chair and said in answer to an in- 
quiring look from Peggy : 

“It’s just as it always was, Peggy, the men do all 
the visiting about here. I thought this was a pleasant 
evening for mother to come over, but she had hold of 
a paper that had something Ike said in it, and I 
couldn’t bring her.” 

“She likes a good talker, Draque,” said Jabez, 
“and I don’t blame her for staying with the paper and 
sending you off alone.” The two men, Jabez and 
Tobe, laughed outright, 


l8o ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 

“I’d like to knowwhat’s up,’’ queried Draque, turn- 
ing to look at Peggy. “The old men about here are 
trying to wipe out a score of years at a lick. I wouldn’t 
blame them, either, if they were widowers, but I see 
you’re living Peggy, and I haven’t heard of a funeral 
at Tobe’s. ” 

The autumn and winter wore away, and the time 
was at ha,nd when both parties were about to appoint 
their candidate. Ike paid another visit home, with 
the double object of seeing his parents and recuper- 
ating for a few” days among what were always to him 
the invigorating breezes about the farm, previous to 
his journey to Chicago to attend the Republican na- 
tional convention, which was to be held there. For 
the time he threw^ all care away, and thoughtfully 
listened to and watched the bullfrogs as they croaked 
and leaped into the pond, that w^hen a boy he had con- 
templated and measured in many ways. The fields 
resumed their old familiarity as he stopped to look at 
some landmarks and draw the map of w^hat was once 
around them. His father had recently gotten into a 
modest looking frame house, and Ike, with hands in 
pockets, leisurely stepped about the old cabin, saying 
as he investigated : “If it were not for the way father 
kept it chinked and mortared, there wouldn’t be one 
log of it left upon another. ’ ’ 

He turned his back upon the cabin, and faced the 
west, where, in the distance, stood a tree, now as 
much like the thing it was when he first looked at it 
as ever. He said : 

“All things have not changed, I see. That tree 
sends its three principal branches out precisely as it 
used to. I often watched it when I had nothing else 
to do, and traced the face of an old woman in the 
branch that leans to the south. The dame looks as 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCICEYE. l8l 

natural as ever. There’s her high forehead, a little 
too high, and her long nose, and pointed chin a little 
too prominent, and her neck somewhat scrawny for 
beauty. Her eyes are set back too far in her head, 
but look as if there might have been design even there. 
The sun shines in her face all day, and a shady place 
has been given them. After all, she’s a happy look- 
ing old thing, nodding and bowing away as compla- 
cently as when she saluted me upon our first acquaint- 
ance. ” 

His thoughts turned a little from the picturesque to 
the utility aspect of the tree, and he continued: “I 
can’t imagine why father left it standing there— it’s 
too high, and not much of a shade, and would make 
capital rails. Probably he saw the pleasant looking 
old woman’s face as well as I and spared it in conse- 
quence. ’ ’ 

Ike smiled at his own thoughts as he turned from 
cabin and tree, and sauntered leisurely into the house, 
whistling an air that was both new and popular in the 
days when his father’s was the only home he knew. 
In the best of spirits he proclaimed his visit at an end 
and turned his steps toward Chicago, with his thoughts 
centered on the convention where Abraham Lincoln, 
on the third ballot, by a decided vote, was placed before 
the country — the candidate of the Republican party. 

Ike returned, and with renewed enthusiasm again 
settled down to hard work. In his native state no 
former campaign was ever carried on with such un- 
tiring determination for success, nor the outcome 
looked forward to with such palpitating hearts. 

The November election proclaimed Abraham Lin- 
coln President of the United States. Every free state 
in the Union except one acknowledged him their 
choice. 


182 


ISAAC DRAQTJTK, tHF. HUCKEVE. 


Draque was willing to admit it all, and did so as 
good-naturedly as he would assent that his neighbor 
had a better crop of corn than himself — when it was as 
plain to be seen such was the case. 

Tobe, wild with delight, said to him as the two met 
at Jabez’s; 

“I told you twenty-five years ago, Draque, that we’d 
have it our way at last. The majority of people in 
this country are capable of distinguishing right from 
wrong. I always said all they needed was to be 
shown. ” 

He slapped Draque on the shoulder with the fa- 
miliarity of an old friend. Draque turned his honest 
eyes upon him and said : 

“I can’t see much you have to be elated over, being 
as you worked so hard for the abolition of slavery — 
seeing the slave is not free. ’ ’ 

“That’s all very true,’’ replied Tobe, seriously; 
“but there’s no denying it, the slave has a friend in 
the President, which is more than could ever be said 
before. ’ ’ 

“Well,” said Draque, laughing, “they tell me your 
President can size up a pile of wood, or the timber 
he’d like for a good rail fence, as well as Ike can, and 
I don’t know but I like him the better for it. It takes 
a man that knows what hard work is to be able to set 
the right value upon labor, whether slave or free. ’ ’ 

“You’re right,’’ replied Jabez. “From any stand- 
point you may take it the knowledge of a practical 
man is away ahead of the theorist. I imagine Judge 
Douglass, the man you took such pride in voting for, 
Draque, while he may be a good man in many ways, 
hasn’t the deep knowledge of human woes like the man 
who in tender years was thrown upon his own re- 
sources and so bravely and honorably made his way 


ISAAC DRaOUE, the I^UCKEYE. 1S3 

to where he is today— at the head of the nation. 
Could any one but the man who sets the right value 
upon labor say — ‘I agree, with Mr. Douglass, the 
negro is not my equal in many respects. Certainly 
not in color, perhaps not in moral or intellectual en- 
dowments ; but in the right to eat the bread without 
the leave of any one else, which his own hand earns, 
he is my equal, and the equal of Judge Douglass, and 
the equal of every living man’?” 

Draque made no reply, and, after a few seconds’ 
pause, Jabez continued: 

“ ’Tis true the slave is not free, but it’s just as 
Tobe said — he has a friend where he never had one 
before.” 

Draque glanced rapidly from one to the other, his 
eyes at last resting upon Tobe, and replied : 

“I see the majority is satisfied, and I’m not the one 
to complain. I’ll not kick as you did all along, Tobe, 
when the big side was against you. ’ ’ 

‘‘I felt I had something to kick about, and you don’t 
— there’s the difference,” answered Tobe. He slowly 
shook his head as he looked at Draque and said: “I 
wouldn’t like to be in the way of your heels, Draque, 
any more than Ike’s, if you were roused up to see it 
was your duty to act in a determined manner pending 
a political campaign.” 

At mention of Ike pride glowed in every feature 
of the old man’s face. He looked at his heavy boots, 
turned the heels up, and was satisfied they were well 
nailed, then' said : 

“It wouldn’t be well for you to have come in their 
way twenty- five or thirty years ago, but you’ll not 
have much to fear from now on. The boots are about 
the same size and as well nailed, but a good deal of 
what was once in them is gone. ’ ’ 


j84 I?; a AC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 

A shadow flitted over each face, and a few seconds 
were spent, each communing with his own thoughts. 

J abez spoke consolingly : 

“When it comes to that, Draque, we’re all on the 
same string. It wouldn’t take as much of the strength 
once in your boots to take us all off our feet. 

“Yes,’’ replied Draque, in his most subdued man- 
ner. “It’s a wonderful pleasant way God has dealt 
with us. Little by little he has been taking our lives 
back until now we haven’t much to lose. ’* 

“We’re nearing the end, ’ said Tobe, addressing 
Jabez; “but while the plank is yet under our feet we 
must work, that justice may at last be shown to the 
oppressed. It’s not many years we have left to gather 
round our neighbors’ hearths, and the soughing and 
moaning of the wind outside makes the thought more 
melancholy; but we’ll end as we begun — clamoring 
for Right.’’ 

The fireside melted away from Peggy and vanished 
in smoke. That the fire had burned there for long 
years did not make it any more permanent now that 
she felt it must some day burn for others. Her hand 
found its way into her pocket for the handkerchief 
that was needed for eyes dimmed with tears, which 
she quietly dried, and among those present not one 
was prepared to face the last more bravely and re- 
signed and full of trust than she. 

Draque ’s smileless face was evidence he felt rather 
melancholy as he silently calculated how fast their 
lives were ebbing out. He turned up the sole of his 
boot the second time, as the enigma of life, noiselessly 
and without pain passing away from him, confronted 
him about the same as it had sages of all times. 

Jabez had been thinking too, and said, as he came 
out of the reverie he had been indulging in : 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


185 


“We’ll talk about younger days, Draque. It’s 
sometimes not good to dwell too long upon a subject 
after a man gets an inkling into the meaning you 
wish to give him, and, above all others, age is the 
subject that makes a man feel good for nothing. If 
you stop too long on that and give him a chance to 
think his thoughts, the outlook, if not gloomy, is en- 
ervating. It makes him shaky at the knees and tot- 
tering in his gait. It will better answer the purpose 
to go back over the past and talk about what a man 
has done and what he has left undone. Nothing 
rouses a true man up like the thinking about what 
he should and has not done, and the time he will likely 
have at his command to do it. When such thoughts 
come he can sometimes put more force in his acts 
than he could when he was conscious of the great 
vitality that was in him. All that was ever really 
good in Draque is there yet,” continued Jabez, as 
he gave him a sound slap on the shoulder, “regardless 
of the plumpness of face and limb and the strength 
and vigor that went with them. ’ ’ 

“I’m not the man that’s afraid of old age,” replied 
Draque; “but it’s that same and death that lets 
thoughts unspeakable in upon us. They’re not cow- 
ardly thoughts either, but we’re face to face with the 
fact that there's something Beyond for us soon, and 
when that thought comes it becomes a man to be 
serious. ’ ’ 

Draque removed the pipe from his mouth that had 
vacillated several times between mouth and hand in 
the last ten minutes. He packed the tobacco a little 
tighter with the first finger of his right hand re- 
peatedly, and leisurely he pressed the weed ; but the 
spark had long been dead in the pipe, that while in 
his mouth he had forgotten to smoke. 


l86 ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 

“I believe you’re right on that point, Draque,” 
said Tobe. “Now we have the logging and clearing 
away all done, something tells us that was our part 
to be performed in the Great Plan. ” 

Tobe stopped for a moment to contemplate their 
part of the plan, aside from the slavery question, then 
said: 

“When the beech and hickory switched in the wind 
and stood proud and erect high over our heads, we 
knew the path that lay for some distance before us. 
Now we watch the cattle grazing in the pastures, and 
field after field ready for the plow, and know we must 
soon pass them over to other hands. ’ ’ 

To them the clock sounded, each second measured 
off with greater distinctness than ever before. The 
variety of sounds peculiar to the rural homes of the 
Buckeyes came from garden and field around. . A 
shrill crow from a chanticleer sounded in the direction 
of Draque’s cosy home, and was answered from an- 
other barnyard that might be on a bee-line east of 
where they sat. Peggy started at the sound and said : 

“It’s not often we hear the roosters crow before mid- 
night. ’ ’ She had glanced at the clock while speaking 
and knew it was far from that hour. 

“A change in the weather sometimes sets them 
acrowing, so I’ ve heard folks say, ’ ’ said Draque. ‘ ‘ But 
the weather often changes when they don’t crow be- 
fore midnight, and I’m not just certain about the 
cause of the crowing. ’ ’ 

“It means no harm anyway, Peggy. None of us 
will die any the sooner for it,” said Jabez, as his here- 
tofore serious face beamed full of smiles. “I’ve often 
heard them break out at the wrong time, and after all 
things went on as usual. ’ ’ 

“This time,” said Tobe, his face also losing all trace 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


187 


of serious or melancholy lines, “it means that it’s time 
you and I, Draque, were making for home. We might 
have kept on all night with our age and wrinkles, if 
we were not warned in some way it was time to start. ’ ’ 
It s later than we often stop out. When it’s earlier 
we should be making the time for going, for our old 
joints are stiff and we can’t hop over the furrows as 
we used to, ’ ’ said Draque, not yet brought to the smil- 
ing point by the pleasantry of his neighbors. 

‘When some men leave their youth behind them 
they leave it all of a sudden, like Draque,” said Jabez, 
as his smile rounded up in an audible laugh. 

That’s true,” replied Tobe, “and I think it would 
not be a bad idea for him to try and taper oif, like you. ’ ’ 
“When a man doesn’t see anything to laugh at, if he’s 
sensible he doesn’t laugh,” answered Draque, slowly 
rising. When fairly upon his feet he turned to Peggy, 
saying: “I’ll act upon Tobe’s advice and bid you ‘good- 
night, ’ and if he doesn’t hustle I’ll leave him behind 
yet, with all his youthful pranks. ’ ’ 

“When people get together they must talk, Draque, ” 
said Peggy, “and it’s just as well not to mind their 
nonsense sometimes.” 

“When it doesn’t suit me, Peggy, you may be sure 
I’ll not. Something has to move me the one way or 
the other before I’ll budge, not meaning any harm to 
any one by my stubbornness, either. ’ ’ 

Tobe looked as cheery as a man could when he left 
Jabez ’s that night. He had proved to his neighbors, 
some years before, he was not the silent, solitary man 
they had thought him, but before he manifested such 
a happy disposition he had many another man’s shoul- 
ders as heavily laden with the slavery burden as his 
own. 


CHAPTER XVIIL 


Draque cast his last vote in eighteen hundred and 
sixty, and was tranquil over the returns that marked 
his defeat and his son’s triumph. 

He was interested in home affairs as if everything 
was going on in the great country around him as usual, 
with the prospect of the same management in high 
places as heretofore. 

He piled the corn in the cribs and put the stalks in 
a convenient place for fodder. He had the winter’s 
fire wood hauled home and what would not fit in the 
shed left near the kitchen door. The horses and cows 
were stabled. The young cattle found shelter in the 
straw stacks and the poultry were comfortably settled 
in the house built for them at the east end of the 
barn. In the cellar bins were filled with apples and 
potatoes. The turnip barrels were full, and great 
heads of cabbage pulled, “with roots and all,” had a 
comer set apart for them. 

The snow fell early, and gave promise of an old 
time winter. Preparations were made to make the 
best of it, and get all the hauling possible done with 
the sleds. Nothing happened that would tend to lead 
a man among them to believe anything out of the 
ordinary course was about to transpire. 

Spring opened, and the bright days found all hands 
preparing for the work it brings. Klomp thought he 
would let a certain meadow into pasture, and being 
short of rails commenced tearing down the fence that 
separated it from an old pasture field in order to put a 
fence around the fallow that would be left open when 

X88 


ISAAC DRAQUF, THK nCCKEYE. 


189 

the meadow was gone. Jabez had some general tidy- 
ing up to do, and the fences on his place needed a rail 
here and there to make them perfect. He could be 
seen driving around with a load of rails, throwing out 
and replacing the broken or rotten that still remained 
in position, but would be likely to need his attention 
soon were he to pass them untouched on this occasion. 

Draque was cleaning up the barn yard, and enrich- 
ing the ground about to be plowed for corn and pota- 
toes, when the news came like a blight that South 
Carolina had seceded. Fort Sumter had been fired. 

Tobias Lenk, while overseeing and overhauling 
things about home, still kept his eye open to the doings 
of the world outside his home and neighborhood. It 
was he who caught the first sound of the bombarding. 
Their papers came but once a week ; daily news had 
to be sought, and who better equal to the task than 
Tobe. 

This morning he had returned from town livid with 
excitement, and dropping the reins crossed the field to 
the right and communicated the news to Jabez. 
Jabez, dumb with horror, leaned back against the load 
of rails and folded his arms tightly across his chest. 
The two men conversing earnestly could see Draque in 
the distance taking time to look at them occasionally as 
he straightened up, evidently for a rest after the 
throwing in this and that direction several shovelfuls 
of the load he was scattering over the soil. Jabez 
drew out his right hand that had been till now tightly 
held by his left arm, and looking in the direction of 
Draque beckoned, catching his eye. Draque under- 
stood the movement, and driving his horses to the 
fence, hitched them to a bar post and proceeded to 
join his neighbors. When he had arrived within hear- 
ing, Tobe, unable to wait longer, called out ; 


190 ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 

“It’s bad news we have this morning, Draque.” 

The few little words gave speed to Draque’s feet. 
He bounded over the clods with something of the fleet- 
ness of youth in eagerness to hear the news, whatever 
it might be. Upon nearing them he halted, and a 
little out of breath accosted them with : 

“Well, I hope it’s not so bad, but that it might be 
worse. ’ ’ 

“It’s just this,” replied Tobe, as Draque came to a 
standstill, “South Carolina has seceded with a pros- 
pect of other states following her example. ’ ’ 

Draque’s sunken eyes, once large and brown, opened 
to their utmost, as speechless he looked upon his 
friends, probably wondering whether after all they, 
Tobe and J abez, were not in a measure responsible for 
it, but not a word of reproof or “I thought so,’’ fell 
from his lips, for Ike was before him even then, and 
willingly he vowed to shoulder his share of the respon- 
sibility, come what might. He shook his head and 
said: “It’s come to a bad pass, I fear, when one little 
state defles the authority of the Union.’’ And pon- 
dering awhile over what it was not yet possible to 
realize, he continued; 

“The majority shall rule; that’s understood. I 
never saw things just as you did neighbors, but I’m 
always willing to abide by laws, when a majority of 
good men make them for the public good. ’ ’ 

“Those are the kind of laws that are forever coming 
to the top,” replied Tobe, as with clenched flst he 
struck the open palm of his left hand. ‘ ‘ They are often 
slow, and a generation sometimes may come and go 
before the workers who have good will to all men And 
their hopes realized. But depend upon it, a lot of 
schemers who have their pockets and the private in- 
terests of their friends in view can’t long hide their 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 191 

motives from the God-fearing’, right loving, common 
people of this country, and they mean majority 
always. ’ ’ 

“I don’t know much that we can do about it,” said 
Draque, casting an inquiring glance at Tobe and then 
at Jabez. After having studied the matter over for 
some time, with eyes riveted on the ground, he con- 
tinued: “We’ll know a little more in the course of a 
few weeks I’m willing to wager. ” 

“Yes,” replied Jabez, “at present I don’t see any- 
thing we can do about it. ’ ’ 

He laid particular stress upon the word we, and with 
telling effect. Draque said as he stepped slowly on : 

“When we can’t see any good we can do, we’d bet- 
ter keep at work where we know some good ’ill come of 
it. That off horse of mine is a little frisky; he’s been 
stabled pretty close all winter and well fed ; he’s not in- 
clined to stand still long. I intend to keep him stir- 
ring pretty lively this spring until I take some of it out 
of him. ’ ’ 

Draque resumed both his natural gait and coolness, 
and leaving them took up the day’s work where he 
had left off. The two men left alone remained in 
thoughtful silence for awhile, when Jabez said: 

“Bad as the news is, Tobe, I don’t know what bet- 
ter we can do than follow Draque ’s example. Un- 
tilled fields ’ill not pay the taxes nor support the 
president we helped put in the chair. What say you?” 

“That’s so,” responded Tobe. “I believe it’s not 
well to borrow trouble. The outcome may not be so 
bad. The beginning and end may be in the first 
shock, after all. ’ ’ 

“We’ll be allowed to think so at any rate,” said 
Jabez, “till something turns up to show us it’s not a 
fact. ’ ’ 


192 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE DUCKEYE. 


Jabez had been standing during the whole talk, with 
his back against the load of rails ; he turned around, 
shoved a lose rail into place, reached for the reins, 
pulled a little on one, and then the other to arouse the 
horses to a sense of what was expected of them. Tobe 
kicked a few times at a tuft of clover that flourished 
on a- spot higher than those surrounding it, and both 
were ready to put through the day much as they 
would have done had the news from the seceding 
state not reached them. Still, as they worked on, a 
sense of uneasiness hung over them that was alto- 
gether unusual. That the south wind sweeping over 
those parts at that season, so warm and genial and 
welcome after the blustering winds of March, carried 
with it any dread omens concerning what might be, 
none of the actors of that day are left to tell. That 
the picture of parting with sons and brothers in order 
to recruit for the bloody battlefield appeared before 
them is left for us to surmise, for Tobe breathed not a 
fear to Draque nor Draque to Jabez. Not much was 
accomplished that day, however. The broken morn- 
ing was succeeded by a shower in the afternoon that 
sent all hands in doors. The life renewing April 
shower, more intent upon doing good than showers of 
other seasons. It came straight down, not a breeze 
distracted or turned its course, bent upon going to the 
roots of all growing things, and with the help of the sun 
revived the life that was in them, and everywhere trans- 
formed the barren looking brown into beautiful green. 

Many days had not elapsed before it was apparent 
the beginning and end were not in the first shock. 
Other states had really seceded, and their attitude 
meant war. 

Republican and Democrat alike took in the situa- 
tion, and side by side marched to the front. Draque 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


193 


argued, “that if their sons must go it was better for 
those to go that had no families to support, ’ ’ and Bill, 
who was some years Ike’s junior, with George, Meg’s 
youngest brother, responded to the first call to arm^, 
and bravely started for the scene. 

But no argument could lessen the blow to mother 
who had Bill about the home all those years. Were it 
to college he was going with his ax upon his shoulder, 
as Ike had gone out 5^ears before, how happy she would 
be. After his departure, she eagerly watched for his 
letters, which he never omitted when he could write. 
For several days she had waited in feverish expectation. 
Morning after morning she could be seen at the corner 
of the house, on tip-toe, with hand protecting her eyes 
from the sun, looking for the messenger she had au- 
thorized to bring Bill’s letter, but no letter came, for 
at the roll call one morning after a bloody battle Bill 
was not there. 

A comrade marked his grave and sent the sad mes- 
sage to Draque, who at once started to recover the 
dead body of his slaughtered boy, which he brought 
home, and laid beside Amanda. No one ever knew if 
his breaking heart for once judged Ike harshly for 
giving his whole energy to the cause that brought 
death to his father’s door. Perhaps the feeling that it 
would not be long before he himself would be laid at 
rest was a balm. But nothing could comfort mother, 
who bore up so bravely when Amanda died. She 
could not interest herself about the house as she used 
to, and when it came meal time • she did not eat ; she 
pined away in sorrow, and sunk into the grave a few 
short months after Bill was so cruelly killed. 

Ike saw the grave close over Bill and mother, and 
feeling he was needed at the front to fill his brother’s 

place proved himself truly in earnest in what he had 
18 


i94 ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 

SO long advocated. He bade wife and children and 
father “good-bye,” and enlisted in the One Hundred 
and Thirty- fifth Ohio Volunteers. 

Through the remainder of the long Civil war he did 
noble service and unflinchingly led those under his com- 
mand, and not until Lee surrendered did he lay down 
his arms. He returned unscathed save the wound in 
his heart for his dead mother and bullet-riddled broth- 
er, which was deeper made when in the old home once 
more he wept with his father over the silent graves. 
Draque had been living with Ike’s family since mother’s 
death, and upon his return was in their midst. Meg 
welcomed Ike back with unbounded delight, and the 
elder children were wild with joy, but two younger 
ones looked upon him with distrust. They were sus- 
picious of his movements; having heard so much of 
the great war and the soldiers they seemed to think 
him hardly safe. They probably saw battlefields and 
wounded men, and poor dead Uncle Bill. Ike looked 
thoughtfully at them, and for the space of a few sec- 
onds was speechless. His. work among the people 
striving to make the majority see the right was done. 
The soldier’s hard life was over. The slave was free. 
Had he counted upon the victory without the cost? 
He took in his arms the youngest of the suspicious 
children and the most vindictive — little brown-eyed 
Ruth— and said: 

' “You don’t know me, I see, but you are not afraid 
of me, are you?” 

He had not yet discarded his uniform, and Ruth 
opened her big eyes wider, and, looking at the brass 
buttons, struggled to get free, which she did, and, 
planting her feet firmly on the floor and her back 
against the wall, looked defiance. Ike looked around 
at the other children and said : 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


195 


“I’m forgotten, Isee. ” 

“Oh, we know you, papa, we know you,” answered 
the oldest, speaking for herself and a handsome brother 
by her side ; ‘‘but Ruth doesn’t remember you. She’ll 
talk by and by. ’ ’ 

Ike tried to win her affection by an offer of candy, 
but all pleading with her to accept was useless. He 
finally took the paper, and, going to where she propped 
the wall with her back, tried to place it in her hand , 
but, her will not weakened, she clenched her chubby 
fists behind her back and stood immovable. ’Ike then 
placed the paper on the chair close beside her and 
walked away. She looked around, seemingly to in- 
quire if every one had taken it for granted she had 
accepted the offered candy, and from some intuition 
or other understood. Once satisfied on that point, 
she deliberately hit the paper a blow that sent it 
across the room, and again as deliberately folded her 
hands behind her back and eyed the strange man who 
wanted to be so kind to her as unyieldingly as before, 
at which her grandfather laughed, clapped his hands, 
and said: 

“Some of the Draque grit — eh, Ike?” 

A companion in arms who came along with Ike en 
route to his own home said : 

‘‘You think you have a beautiful girl there, Ike?” 

Ike again arose, and, crossing the room, put his hand 
under Ruth’s well-formed chin and raised her head 
to an angle that did not suit her, a movement she 
stoutly resented, and said; 

“Well, I’m not so certain about the beautiful, but 
I think she has a strong face, and if we can manage 
to put her on the right track I believe she’ll stay 
there. ” 

Grandfather Draque, pitying the little child, who 


196 ISAAC BRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 

alone was undoubtedly undergoing a severe ordeal, 
took the chair upon which the offered candy had been 
placed, and, seating himself by the little girl, took 
her in his arms. She nestled her brown curls close 
to his cheek with such a pleased, thankful look in her 
big eyes that the old man clasped her closely to his 
heart and said : 

“She’s no sugar-plum girl. Her old grandfather 
could have told you that. ’ ’ 

Then, holding her at arm’s length, and looking 
squarely at the little face that always beamed in smiles 
for him, he said proudly: 

“She wouldn’t be a Draque if she could be either 
bought or sold. ’ ’ 

Ike made no further attempt to win the affection or 
confidence of his little daughter. She was left undis- 
turbed, and prattled away on her grandfather’s knee, 
stroked and pulled his whiskers, and at times was for- 
getful of every other presence. When she had the hair 
smoothed over the bald spot and the whiskers twisted 
to suit her, she would cast a wondering look in the 
direction of the uniform and the brass buttons which 
was as full of distrust as before. 

Tobe was on hand after Ike’s arrival home, before 
an hour had passed. While he had little errands about 
the town, his principal object was to welcome and have 
a talk with Ike. Ike and his companion talked on; 
their conversation consisted chiefly in answering the 
numerous questions concerning the war put to them 
by Tobe. There were many horrible tales Ike could 
tell, but he shrank from the telling, and it was only 
when questioned closely that his short and effective 
replies gave his hearers an idea of some of the appall- 
ing sights of the battlefield. That the black stain of 
slavery, which had hung over the country, had been 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


197 


wiped out, was inspiration to Tobe. His thankfulness 
knew no bounds. Draque, with few questions to ask, 
sat caressing his grandchild. He had been sitting with 
his chin resting upon her head. He raised his head 
a little and said : 

“Your boy died when he was like this one, didn’t 
he, Tobe?” 

Tobe looked at the child and replied: 

“He was about her size, I think.” 

The silence that ensued was overpowering. Ike had 
no lazy watch dog stretched on the hearth to court 
attention. There was not a cricket in the chimney cor- 
ner, and the clock did not tick loud like the old-fash- 
ioned one in his father’s house. The report of a gun 
in the hands of some joyous celebrators sounded in 
their ears. It startled the little one and she asked 
her grandfather in a voice just loud enough to be 
heard by all : 

“Is that the way they shot when they killed Uncle 
Bill?” 

The old man did not answer. Meg dried the tears 
shed for Ike’s brother. Tobe looked straight ahead, 
but saw nothing. Ike sat like a statue, his convictions 
as strong as ever. The slave should be free. Isot a 
voice of self-reproach welled up in his heart. No such 
dreadful reproof as “You are your brother’s slayer” 
sounded in his ears. Early in life he realized his be- 
loved country had a blot on her otherwise fair face, 
and from that day he lived to take the stain away. 
That dreadful realities he or no other man could fore- 
see had taken place was not a cause sufficient to shake 
his convictions regarding justice. But enough had 
transpired to subdue all joy for the time around the 
family hearth. 

In the quiet Ruth had fallen asleep, and the breath- 


198 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 

ing of innocence was as yet the only sound to be heard. 
That all were miserable in the stillness can hardly be 
said ; uncomfortable may be a better word. Each had 
entered into himself, and his own thoughts lifted him 
above the need of stir or conversation. Thoughts, 
somber and gloomy and hopeful, stalked before them 
like living things, until at last resignation settled down 
upon them with a peace so real it must have come 
from heaven. In the Beyond Draque saw mother and 
Amanda and Bill, and he counted upon being so near 
the line that separates — satisfied could be plainly seen 
in his countenance. With a cheerful look he lifted the 
little head that had slipped from his shoulder lower 
and lower until chin and dimpled cheek were buried 
beneath his arm, and said, as he laid her in Ike’s 
arms: 

“Ruth is tired of us all.’’ 

Ruth slept peacefully on, not knowing that the man 
with brass buttons tucked her carefully in her bed, 
and placed on her pouting lips the first kiss since he 
left so many months before for the war. He spread 
on his open palm the little hand that dealt his coaxing 
offer such a blow, smiled as he gently placed it by 
her side, and left her alone. 

Ike realized he was a citizen just as he was before 
his bloody experience; and also in his own house a 
host, that hospitality must be taken up where he had 
left off, and carried on in about the same manner he 
had been accustomed to deal it out before a breath 
of Civil war swept over the land. He had the wine 
poured freely for those who cared to indulge, and never 
experienced a scruple as to the right or the wrong of 
the custom. When a young boy he had learned from 
his father in many ways that it was the proper thing, 
just as eating, and going to school, and attending Sum 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 1 99 

day-school, and numerous other thing’s were right. 
Since those days what reason had he to believe it was 
wrong? To Ike — intelligent, far-seeing, and justice 
loving — no valid reason appeared. He offered the 
sparkling cup to Tobe and his soldier friend, which 
without hesitation both accepted, and in a masterly 
manner he drained his own. But knowing that for 
years his father persistently refused when solicited to 
drain the cup— a characteristic of his father which he 
respected but still considered a whim — he did not offer. 
Ike’s silent and convincing argument concerning the 
whim was: 

“Has father not taken considerable in his time, and 
what harm came of it?” He felt positive the whim 
was based upon John Strand’s terrible misfortune, 
which he also demonstrated to his own satisfaction 
was unreasonable, as “John was never the man his 
father was. ’ 

Tobias Lenk, understanding Draque’s peculiarities, 
said nothing ; but the soldier turned a questioning look 
toward Ike when he saw he had offered none to his 
father. Ike anticipated the question, and said, with 
all the quiet dignity of his manner: 

“Father is conscientiously opposed to drinking. ” 

A surprised expression came over the soldier’s face, 
for it was an uncommon thing to find a man with just 
such convictions. Oh, wonderful development wrought 
in time ! Thirty years before the men who saw any- 
thing wrong in bondage were as scarce. 

Several times the glasses were filled and drained. 
The sedate soldier so lately returned from scenes most 
horrible became hilarious. Tobe was hardly the logical 
man people had thought him. The conversation lost 
the serious, sensible tone which characterized it a few 
hours earlier, Draque remained alone with the mem- 


200 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


ory of what had passed before them a short time pre- 
vious. He looked at the intelligent, handsome, and 
high-spirited Ike with a soul full of pride and admira- 
tion, and said in his own mind: 

“He’s too young to stoop under the burdens of life 
yet. When I was like him I was as fond of the jovial 
hour as any one. ’ ’ 

The sun was sinking behind clouds that near the 
horizon were emblazoned and bespoke a wealth of gold 
as refreshing to the heart as those nearer the zenith 
were black and full of dark forebodings. How won- 
derfully light and darkness play with a sensitive na- 
ture. Brightness dispels all gloom, and a glance at a 
black cloud has a portentous meaning that shuts with 
a bang the door of a happy heart, and leaves in gloom 
black as the cloud itself the being who is its possessor. 

Such an effect had this particular sunset upon Meg. 
A black cloud that hung low, for one so far from the 
horizon, shut out every other sight. It had an omi- 
nous meaning to her in every way, but particularly in 
this — that it was so very near. 

She had discernment enough to see, even clearer 
than Draque saw, Ike had gone a little farther than 
ever they had seen him go before. 

Draque called Tobe’s attention to the setting sun 
and remarked: 

“If I were in your boots, I’d think it time to be 
moving toward home. Crossing the fields tonight, 
Tobe, won’t take you home.’’ He continued after a 
moment’s thought: “We’ll not see those days any 
more, you and I. ’ ’ 

“Father,” said Ike, “we would like to have Tobe 
stay where he is tonight. He has no particular busi- 
ness home or anywhere else. His mission is fulfilled, 
now that the slave is free. ’ ’ 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


201 


“They 11 be expecting me home,” replied Tobe, 
“and I never liked to disappoint them there. My* 
horse is a pretty good traveler, and I’ll find him wait- 
ing when the train pulls in. ’ ’ 

Tobe shook the hands of the soldiers with a grasp 
that said plainer than words, “Well done,” and his 
handshake with Draque said as plainly, “We were 
friends in youth and through life, and today no one 
feels the loss of Bill more than I do but 57’ourself. He 
was under my eye from a child, and but a line fence 
separates your place and mine. ’ ’ 

Draque understood the message and bowed assent. 


CHAPTER XIX. 


Among all the prosperous of the locality, Hiram 
Blank had been the most prosperous. In prosperity 
he had so far outstripped his early patrons that a line 
must be drawn to separate the self-made aristocrat 
from the common people. The fire had long since 
burned out in the old cabin, and he did not stoop to 
such things as rekindling. He had abandoned the 
selling of drinks over the counter, had gone to the big 
city, and was, some time before the war broke out, 
extensively engaged in manufacturing and wholesal- 
ing, which are large words and everywhere mean a 
great deal. His house was a fine structure and its 
belongings not to be winked at. He and his brothers 
in the liquor traffic — the modern slaveholders — had 
gotten about the same hold upon the political economy 
of the country the more ancient class of that name had 
earlier in the century. 

Mrs. Blank had rolled down her sleeves and was a 
lady after the extravagant type, florid-faced, and in 
every way suggestive of the indulging in all the good 
things of life. The oldest son — Hiram — a counterpart 
of his father in every way, minus the brains and back 
bone, which deformity may be accounted for in the hard 
knocks of the former before he hit upon the key to 
the golden gate, and the perfect liberty that key af- 
forded the latter to indulge in the luxurious according 
to inclination. Poor fellow ! he was comfortably tucked 
away in an inebriate asylum not feeling all the woes 
his condition implies when borne by common people 
reduced to such extremities by King Alcohol. Before 


202 


ISAAC DkAQUE, tHE BUCKEyE. 


203 


the close of the war Hiram’s second son was drafted, 
but with a lordly mien he counted ''out six hundred 
dollars to a substitute and remained at home. He 
was his father’s business manager and prop, as he tot- 
tered down the hill of life. Mrs. Blank was a charit- 
able soul, and always gave liberally when solicited. 
Hiram from habit stepped to the front as heretofore, 
with this only difference : his personal services were 
offered more discriminately ; he did not lower himself 
in any such way as doing small things for nobodys; 
he headed the list of big subscriptions, and drove im- 
portant persons about to visit prisons and reform 
schools. 

All blame must not be laid at Hiram’s door, how- 
ever. That he is one of a class unable to describe a 
circle outside of self may not be wholly his fault. 
The right is his to impose upon the helpless, and he 
exercises that right to the fullest extent. He heads 
the great list of those who, with the bread and butter 
of the pauper, have built a, breastwork that apparently 
defies all efforts of the man who, in Christian charity, 
tries to tear it down. 

The man who is able to describe circle after circle 
until he embraces the whole world in Christian brother- 
hood finds that breastwork more formidable than the 
forest with its wild men and beasts. It is everywhere 
intersected with little rivulets that pour a constant 
revenue into the coffers of the grandest country upon 
earth. At the Capitol is situated the pivot upon which 
the breastwork must be swung out; there is the life 
of the whole structure and the point where the blow 
must be given that will render the black demon vul- 
nerable. 

The damming or turning the course of sluggish little 
rivulets will not drain cr make healthy the malarial 


204 ISAAC £>RAQUE, THE BUClCEYE. 

swamp. • That intoxicating drinks are extensively 
manufactured implies they are to be extensively sold 
and consumed. That the goddess of Justice seated at 
the Capitol complacently bows to the manufacturer 
and wholesaler of today, as she did to the slaveholder 
of the past, is whose fault? 

It is not the fault of the President, for the right one 
is not there ; mot of congressmen and senators, for the 
power is not theirs ; they, are all tools in the hands of 
the people, the hired rail-splitters, veritable log turn- 
ers, cart wheels and crow bars, that work for the mas- 
ter, according to the master’s will. The master is 
today the same as thirty-five years ago — the majority. 

That Hiram Blank is a correct representative of the 
great army of men who have chosen his avocation as 
the best method of living and enriching themselves is 
not to be presumed. When the best country, on the 
face of the earth implied that it was right, just as that 
country implied slavery was right, by giving them 
the privilege, they were not the men to question that 
right. They simply saw the money in it and looked 
no further. 

Jabez, with slavery off his hands, and both he and 
Draque with the infirmities of age staring them in the 
face, must not be expected to cope very successfully 
with the saloonkeeper when the army of men returned 
from the war, every man a drinking man, without a 
scruple to contend with further than “don’t drink to 
get drunk,” for other scruples assumed no proportion 
but in very isolated cases. Revolting and blood- 
curdling scenes were becoming of frequent occur- 
rence, and the numerous jails and prisons built by 
fathers who had no intention of raising criminals to 
languish behind the bars were being rapidly filled, and 
those placed behind said bars had been, with excep- 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


205 


tional cases, law-abiding youths previous to the long 
war. It was thought by many the soldiers’ indolent 
life, when not on the march or engaged in actual bat- 
tle, was responsible for the numerous misdeeds of 
which there was a marked scarcity during the war in 
localities untouched by the tramp of soldiers’ feet. 
They had a great deal to talk about, those heroes, 
when they came together, and the saloon and country 
tavern were accommodating places where they could 
lounge at leisure, and exchange experiences by the 
hour, lost to present responsibility, the memory of 
such responsibility drowned in the fatal glass. 

The booming of cannon, the sound of fife and drum, 
and all the paraphernalia of war possess a wonderful 
charm for the growing boy. He is naturally a hero 
worshiper. He forgets home and friends, and steps 
in time with fife and drum. He eagerly and with beat- 
ing heart takes in all the details given by the stern 
soldier who is so brave and manly. He cannot go to 
the war and distinguish himself as the soldier did ; he 
feels regretful the opportunity was not his ; he has but 
one opportunity left to be in any way like the man he 
so much admires, and that is to take a drink like him. 
Thus, in the short space of half a century, three gen- 
erations were schooled in the art of drinking. 

Ike had his law office again open, and resumed the 
place he had so filled with himself before the war. 
Did he consider his lifework accomplished, or had the 
hardships of long marches and battlefields left him 
unfit for further action? Although the passerby and 
those who called could see the lawyer in his old place, 
it was plain the great soul that all who ever met him 
felt he possessed was somewhat dwarfed. His talk 
with clients did not have the ring of former da3^s. 
The boys in blue, with whom he had been in such long 


206 


ISAAC draqu£, the BUCKEYS:. 


companionship, had some magnetic power over Ike, 
whose unflinching will nothing had ever swerved either 
to the right or left from the path where duty called. 
One night, about six months after, Tobe had spent an 
afternoon with Ike and family, Meg went to the win- 
dow for the hundredth time and looked in the direction 
of a street leading to a public hall that had been used 
as a lecture hall, and where Ike had often held an au- 
dience spellbound. Tonight it was not a lecture that 
called Ike out, but a reunion of soldiers, some still 
about the city, many others coming from their homes, 
scattered everywhere throughout the state. The aver- 
age unmarried soldier had not yet in earnest taken up 
life where he had left off as a citizen ; he required 
a breathing space between work with such distinct 
contrast as what he had been doing and what he must 
do when what was left of the soldier’s pay was gone. 
Ike did not expect to be later than midnight, if so 
late, but Meg watched the stars one by one go down, 
with greater anxiety than she had ever watched before. 
A few nights earlier in the week, in another part of 
the city not quite so aristocratic, there had been a 
melee that resulted in a few bruised heads and some 
lock-ups, but of course that had nothing to do with 
this evening or with Ike’s friends. 

The last star was dim and its twilight ushered in an- 
other day, when Meg saw a figure in the distance. 
She watched, and upon closer approach she was certain 
it was Ike. She hurried downstairs to inquire “What 
could be the matter?” 

“Matter? There’s nothing the matter,” replied 
Ike. “The soldiers are all off this morning, and we 
decided to make a night of it, that is all. ” 

He noticed the tired, worried look on Meg’s face and 
said: 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


207 


“I hope you have not been up all night, Meg?” 

Draque, not knowing whether Ike was in or out, had 
slept the night through as peacefully as the little one 
who had not learned to love the soldier, but looked 
upon him with as much distrust as ever. At the break- 
fast table Ruth was a little sulky, and would not touch 
her breakfast because the man she was determined to 
have nothing to do with helped her. She looked al-, 
ternately at her plate and across the table at the man 
she thought had no right there, and sat otherwise 
motionless. Grandfather Draque ’s place was beside 
Ruth. He looked down at the untouched breakfast 
and said: 

“Why doesn’t my little girl eat her breakfast?” 

Ruth looked at him with the whole answer in her 
eyes as she glanced rapidly from Ike to the plate, 
and then rested them on her grandfather’s face. 

“I’ll see that Ruth's helped,” said Draque, and 
smiling at the child he continued: “I’ve been a good 
while cutting your meat for you, haven’t I, Ruth?” 

He took her knife and fork, cut and turned over 
what had already been prepared for her, and said: 
“There, Ruth.” 

Ruth shrugged her shoulders with satisfaction, picked 
up her fork, and went to work. She was a hearty 
child, and, now that she was satisfied, paid more at- 
tention to her breakfast than to the stranger. Draque 
looked down at the plate almost empty and said : 

“That’s a good breakfast, isn’t it, Ruth?” 

With fork raised to her mouth she turned to her 
grandfather a look of affirmation, and hurriedly took 
the morsel it contained. At the same time her laugh 
rang out clear and joyous. Ike looked at her with a 
twinkle in his eye, and said : 

“I SQe you can laugh, Ruth,” 


2o8 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


That moment she pitched her head to one side, and 
a frown took the place of all the smiles she had for 
her grandfather. Draque laughed heartily and said : 

“You can’t buy her, Ike. After a while, if she sees 
you behave yourself, and are worthy of her notice, 
she’ll be as good a friend as you could have.” 

Draque returned thanks, as had been his custom in 
Ike’s absence, since mother and Bill had been laid to 
rest, and he had come to live under Ike’s roof. He 
took Ruth by the hand as they left the dining room, 
and upon reaching the sitting room all sat down for a 
few moments’ talk. 

This morning there was not much energy in any 
one but Draque and the little girl, who danced about 
her grandfather, braided and unbraided his fingers, 
and who at last tired of that sport left him for her 
dolls and toys. Ruth’s mother had not much to say, 
the loss of a night’s rest, with the anxiety that at- 
tended it, left her rather spiritless. 

Ike moved listlessly about the room for awhile, and 
said, as he looked at the clock : 

“Don’t you think it is about time I was going to the 
office, father?” 

“You’ve been your own boss long enough to not 
ask, Ike, but I tell you when I was your age it wouldn’t 
be this time I’d be thinking of taking hold of a day’s 
work,” said Draque. 

“I’ve seen the time myself, father, when I worked 
late and early, and enjoyed it, ’ ’ replied Ike. 

“Mebbe you’re like me, Ike, your work’s all done,” 
said Draque slowly, as his mind wandered back to the 
farm with the timber all cut, the fences made, the 
empty house with no one left him to provide for, and 
nothing there for him to do. 

“It is certain,” replied Ike, “that for many 3^ears 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


209 


there was a great strain upon me; now that the object 
for which I worked so hard is accomplished, it may be 
as you say, father, my work is done. ’ ’ 

“Your family is young yet, Ike,” said Draque, 
seemingly changing his opinion regarding Ike’s work; 
“it wouldn’t be right to forget them because you’re 
satisfied other men’s families will be better taken 
care of. ’ ’ 

Ike looked at his father and replied: “Don’t think I 
have an idea of neglecting them. I am independent, 
and expect to take care of them without tying myself 
down quite as closely as I felt compelled to do some 
years ago. ’ ’ 

Ike turned to a closet, opened the door and helped 
himself to bottle and glass. He took what he called a 
good drink, and as he carefully recorked the bottle 
said to his father and Meg, “I’ll be off now.” 

Both watched him out of sight. The pretty dwell- 
ing on the corner of the street at right angles with 
their own hid him completely from view. Draque 
shook his head, and said in a voice tremulous with re- 
gret: 

“I’m sorry he ever saw me take a drink, and repent 
that I ever offered one to him, but when I started at it 
who’d be able to imagine a tithe of the bad work it’s 
been steadily doing from that day to this. ” 

Draque sat quiet for a long time trying to unravel 
the intricate pattern of the carpet under his feet ; it 
was one of those mixed patterns where it is hard to 
find a beginning, and harder to find an end. Several 
times he fixed his eyes upon a starting point, which he 
steadily followed up and down and across, still unable 
to come to the point where the line extended no 
farther. Discouraged with the pattern, he raised his 
eyes to Meg and said : 

14 




210 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 

“It was your father, Meg, that put me on the right 
track. ’ ’ 

Meg’s weary eyes brightened at the mention of her 
father. She said in her sweetest accents : 

“I’m expecting father in today; mother sent word 
yesterday he would be here today, but I was so much 
occupied with other things I forgot to mention it to 
you. He has not been in the city for a long time, not 
since Ike came home ; he is troubled with aches he 
calls rheumatism, and thinks he can make himself 
more comfortable at home than any place else. He 
told me, when last I was home to see them, that noth- 
ing but a beautiful day could coax him away from 
home. ’’ 

“Old age is likely to have aches of some kind, Meg, ” 
said Draque, “and it might as well be rheumatism as 
something else. Many a time, years ago, I felt stif- 
fened like a spavined horse after splitting rails or turn- 
ing over logs in the slush, but it would all wear off 
after a few days, and I’ve lived to learn there’s worse 
aches than those settled in the bones. ’ ’ 

Meg never complained. She did not rehearse her 
woes, whether late or of long standing, but turned her 
head and looked at the corner where Ike was hidden 
from sight some time before, and was conscious of a 
remnant of an ache that had been severe before the 
morning sun roused the birds, set the lambs afrisking 
on her father’s farm, and cleared away some of the 
shadows that were deepening about her heart as well. 
Draque and Meg were now looking out upon the yard. 
The shadow of the house had shortened very per- 
ceptibly since Ike stepped out and left the two alone. 
Memories flitted before them as unlike as their expe- 
riences were unlike. Yet strange, in both, those mem- 
ories produced about the same sad heart throbs. 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


21 1 


Draque had slept soundly the night before, but he 
was not blind to the fact that Ike’s was not the same 
happy home it used to be. He turned his keen eye on 
Meg, and went deeper down into her troubled soul 
than she had thought any one could, and resolved to 
dwell no longer on the near past — the disagreeable 
passing, for the long past he knew was for Meg laden 
with most pleasant memories, and said : 

“I wouldn’t grieve overmuch about little things, 
Meg, Ike’s been carried away so long by the smell of 
powder and such like that every stray shot he hears 
fired sets him agoing. When the soldiers get out of 
town, and the country is quieted down a little, he’ll be 
the same old Ike again, never fear. ” 

Meg’s reply was embodied in a quiver of the lip and 
in two shining tears that trembled for awhile in the 
corners of her eyes, and slowly rolled down her cheeks, 
dropping into the folds of her dark morning dress, 
where they were lost in oblivion. She was certain Ike’s 
father did not see just two tears, and not wishing to 
show any weakness, her right hand rested quietly on 
her lap regardless of the handkerchief in the pocket 
beneath. 

“Your father ’ill be apt to come in on the ten thirty 
train, eh, Meg?’’ asked Draque, as he walked to a door 
opening on the porch. 

“I think he will,’’ replied Meg, who hesitating a 
moment continued : “I have no reason for expecting 
him at that hour, only that when he has anything of 
the kind in view he always goes about it early as pos- 
sible. ’ ’ 

“That’s me,’’ said Draque laughing, as he stepped 
outside on the porch. “I always believed in an early 
start at anything. ’ ’ 


CHAPTER XX. 


Meg, finding herself alone, turned to the table be- 
side her, looked at the cover of a book or two, and list- 
lessly took up the morning paper, while Draque 
paraded the porch — forward and back, forward and 
back, the sound not unlike that of soldiers on parade. 

Neither heard the rattle of wheels that came to a 
standstill at the end of the walk, leading to the house. 
Draque, in his forward march, had his back turned to 
the entrance, and did not see Jabez until he was be- 
side him on the porch. 

“I’ll declare; you’re pretty lively for a man 
crippled with rheumatism,” exclaimed Draque, as he 
hastily turned and grasped the extended hand of his 
old friend. He continued: “I was at the far end of 
the porch this minute, and you were nowhere to be 
seen. ” 

The commotion brought Meg to the door, and with 
a brightness in her eyes and countenance Draque had 
not seen for some weeks past, she welcomed her fa- 
ther. The children were all at school, except Ruth, 
who felt pretty well acquainted with grandfather 
Ghent, and walked across the room to offer him her 
chubby hand. Jabez took her in his arms; she made 
no effort to get away, but held her little head upright. 
She did not nestle her curls to his cheek, or bestow 
much affection upon the grandfather who came to see 
them so seldom. Jabez held her for awhile during 
some general conversation, and then stood her beside 
him on the floor. She turned a side look at Jabez, 
and knew she was free. With a bound she landed on 


212 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


213 


Draque s knee, cuddled her head down between her 
shoulders, caught hold of the two old hands that were 
around her and looked over the elevated shoulder at 
the other grandfather misfortune had not thrown out 
of his own home and placed under the same roof with 
her, as the grandfather she had learned to love so well. 

Draque sat mute as the child on his knee, while 
Jabez and Meg appropriated the time to themselves 
and were making the best of it asking and answering 
questions, with minds so occupied as to shut out for 
the time all opportunity to Draque were he inclined to 
talk. He evidently had not been paying much atten- 
tion to what they were saying, for he interrupted them 
with : 

“How does my old place look this morning, Jabez. 
All the line fences in repair?” 

“I think they are,” answered Jabez, startled by the 
suddenness of the question. “I know the line fence be- 
tween your place and mine is perfect, and I haven’t 
heard any of the neighbors complain. ’ ’ 

“I think that’s a pretty good fellow I let the place 
to,” said Draque. He ended the sentence with a very 
rising inflection, and cast a searching look at Jabez. 

‘ ‘ I think he knows his business as well as the rest 
of us,” replied Jabez. 

“I suppose Tobe calls around as often as ever,” 
queried Draque. 

“Well, no; not exactly,” replied Jabez, “he’s been 
laid up with some trouble these two weeks; the effects 
of a hard cold, they tell me. He’s doctoring himself 
up a little and trying to take better care of himself. ” 

“I’ll wager he’s a doctor that ’ill give himself plenty 
if it’s the kind he likes,” replied Draque, with a sig- 
nificant nod. 

“It’s the kind he likes he’s taking,” said Jabez, with 


,214 ISAAC DRAQUE,- THE BUCKEYt. 

greater coolness than he was wont to exhibit when he 
felt o)3liged to talk about the stuff he had been warr- 
ing against, by example at least, during his whole life. 

Meg well knew her father’s aversion to the bottle; 
she had the same dislike herself, and had learned to 
dislike it from both father and mother, and was on 
nettles when Ike appeared. She knew, too, that Ike 
was conscious of the chasm existing between himself 
and her father on the drink qviestion — the two whose 
hearts when slavery was mentioned beat as one. 

“It used to be that Ike had proper regard for others 
convictions. From boyhood he had especial esteem 
and admiration for father’s ways and views of things 
in general, but he’s so changed of late,” soliloquized 
Meg, as Ike stepped into the room looking even more 
handsome and distinguished than ever, “there can be 
no accounting for what he might do. ’ ’ 

Critics may be severe, Meg, when they place at your 
door a long list of qualities expectant of you, and of 
which they may prove you wanting, but your perfect 
trust in Ike is gone. The beautiful house you live in, 
and that was a true home, is but a tottering thing. 
The books and pictures and everything with which 
love garnished it are skeletons of the past ; ghouls that 
everywhere wear threatening countenances and have 
forever driven away your peace. 

Jabez saw no change in Ike as he grasped his hand. 
The grasp was returned with the same truth that 
made his stage-coach companion feel he could depend 
his life upon him. His nature was the same thing of 
steel, and this one of the real moments when Ike was 
altogether himself. 

He had been very busy that morning, exceedingly 
interested as well as busy, for a mortgage on Tobias 
Lenk’s personal property was about to be foreclosed, 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


215 


and Ike would as soon part with his own gear as see 
Tobe dealt by unjustly. He had a letter from Tobe 
stating the case ; it read that said property ought to 
cover the mortgage three or four times over, but dis- 
posed of according to law at a public sale barely what 
would cover the mortgage would be realized, all of 
which Ike knew to be a fact. Consequently he relin- 
quished personal comforts that morning to find a way 
out of the trouble for Tobe. 

After greeting Jabez in his most cordial manner Ike 
proceeded to inform the two men of the perplexities of 
the morning. 

“I’m sorry to hear it,” said Draque. “After a life 
time he ought to be nigh out of such trouble now. I 
remember as well when he took that place and made his 
first payment on it as I do when I took my own. He and 
John Strand decided on the piece of woods they’d take 
the same day. Poor John was something ahead of 
Tobe then, for he had more money to pay down. ’ ’ 

Looking very intently at Ike, Draque continued: 
“Mebbe you wouldn’t think it, Ike, but it’s a different 
lot of people he has to hold his own with now. They’ll 
not be picking him up and hiding his faults like we 
would years ago; the craze is now to kick a poor, 
unfortunate out of the way, and the faster they land 
them behind bars the more good they think they’re 
doing.” 

“I heard nothing about it,” said Jabez, looking up 
for the first time since he saluted Ike, “and that’s 
queer, too, for I alwa5>^s knew how Tobe stood about as 
well as I knew how I stood myself, at least I thought 
I did. ’ ’ Then turning to Draque he continued : 

“As you’ve mentioned John Strand, I’m reminded 
of a time when his ways became mysterious, and the 
reminder is unpleasant. ’ ’ 


2I6 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


“I hope nothing will harm him,” said Draque. At 
the same time he worked himself around on his chair, 
got both feet into position ready for a start, should a 
shrill whistle or any other sort of sound warn him, he 
might be of some service to Tobe or any person in 
distress. The uneasiness of his father amused Ike, 
and his laugh sounded through the room the whole- 
soul thing it was. There was controlling power in his 
brown eyes, and upon close inspection his brown locks 
betrayed the charming loveliness of first gray hairs. 
Draque felt with pride, and not for the first time, that 
Ike was a superior person, and bowed his head in ac- 
quiescence when Ike said: 

“Nothing will harm him, father; why should there. 
He’s a little behind, that’s all; embarrassed some peo- 
ple call it, but I like your way of telling things better. 
He’s a little behind; he will be on his feet all right 
again, soon.” 

“You’ve not lived as long as your father and I have, 
Ike,” said Jabez. “When a man’s not on his feet at 
his age he’s not likely to be ever on them. ” 

Ike looked quietly at Jabez and said: 

“I think you are inclined to borrow trouble as well 
as father. When I said Tobe would soon be on his 
feet I simply made use of a metaphor ; a little trouble 
like this is not going to take the feet from under him. ” 

“It’s not a bright outlook for hirii, to say the least, 
Ike,” answered Jabez. 

“Well,” replied Ike, who stopped to give the sub- 
ject a moment’s serious thought. “It is unfortunate. 
I’ll admit. ” 

Meg had dinner served later than usual; she was 
not so precisely on time as was her custom. Her 
movements were sluggish in many respects today. 
The brightness that had come over her upon her fa- 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 217 

ther’s arrival had disappeared, and the expression she 
now wore was one of deep melancholy that contrasted 
unfavorably with the cheery look on Ike’s face, so 
much so her father could not help noticing it. He 
asked in a nervous manner, denoting he felt he had 
left her out of consideration too long. “What ails 
you, Meg?” 

“Nothing, ” answered Meg, at the same time turn- 
ing her face toward him with a surprised look. 

“I’m not wanting to discourage you, Meg,” 
said Jabez, “but I never saw you looking so like a 
ghost. ’ ’ 

Meg made no reply. This time she would allow no 
quiver of the lip or forbidden tear to tell the tale of 
shadows that haunted her, whether fancied or real. 
She was not alone in picturing woes, and had gone 
farther with her picture than Draque, who was very 
uneasy as to the outcome of certain changes plain to 
be seen, but he had never seen Ike completely meta- 
morphosed, as Meg had seen him. His worst state, 
when under his father’s eye, was that condition which 
is best told by a phrase used across the water by those 
wishing to describe the article that develops the sav- 
age in a man as, 'alf and ’alf. 

Ike was getting nervous ; he tapped the floor with 
his foot in a manner that might bring up recollections 
of younger days, with dark forests and lonely paths 
where the air was laden with the perfume of wild 
flowers. And possibly in the midst might appear the 
stranger with whom he shared the stage-coach, for 
there was something in the restless tap, tap, that 
might recall just such time. But if such was before 
him, he was conscious he was a dreamer, toying with 
the pictures of what had passed away. It is the same 
old and oft-told tale of life and death. Ike knew the 


2i8 ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 

gfrass was growing over the stranger’s grave in the 
East; he did not live to know that Abraham Lincoln 
was President of the United States. 

All sat in expectation of dinner being announced, 
while the restless tap, unlike that of the stranger with 
whom Ike soon learned to speak soul to soul, in that it 
produced a deadened sound on the carpeted floor, was 
kept up at irregular intervals. 

But his will is trembling like an aspen leaf, with no 
certainty for himself or any one else which side will 
be uppermost in the next moment. He would like to 
appear before Jabez in as bright a light as he knew he 
did, when a boy he dropped in evenings to crack nuts 
and listen to him and Peggy talk and read, and after- 
ward when he became a champion of the Republican 
party, and still later the soldier who did not return 
from battle fields without laurels won. But there is 
an indescribable something wrong. He is not master 
of the mind he possesses. He feels he has not the 
same control over all the powers that go with and de- 
termine the capacity of that wonder working machine 
— the human mold — and yet he is unable to place the 
cause. He would will to endure, and do and be the 
same, but he is conscious of great friction somewhere 
that in spite of him retards the movements of the 
otherwise still tolerably well equipped machine. 

Ike had restricted himself to probably one drink 
that day; whether he had indulged earlier in the 
morning, before his father and Meg were witnesses, 
no one but himself knew. The effects produced by 
being so long without the accustomed stimulant were 
becoming exceedingly unpleasant. Along every nerve 
he felt a drawing, crawling sensation. At one time 
it seemed that a something attached to each particular 
nerve pulled uniformly. Again, the feeling was as if 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 219 

something at the other end turned a screw that con- 
tracted all just a little. 

Much as he wished to please Jabez it was impossible. 

Such torture he would not endure when two-thirds 
of a glass of brandy would like magic remove for the 
time every unpleasant feeling. The dinner bell was 
sounding in his ear. He arose hurriedly, opened the 
same closet door, filled his glass, and drank. 

He is still the perfect gentleman, and, to all appear- 
ance, as well able as either Jabez or his father to say 
— and stand by it — “I’ll never take another drop of 
spirituous or malt liquor in my life. ’ ’ 

Neither Draque nor Meg remonstrated with that de- 
termined man. They had done so often enough to 
know the result, but Jabez pointed his finger toward 
the closet in a menacing way and said : 

“You’d better let that alone, boy.’’ 

Ike smiled pleasantly, but made no allusion to the 
bottle which the man whose friendship he so highly 
prized emphaticall)^ denounced. 

The family were seating tliemselves around the 
table, and Jabez felt it was not the time to reprimand 
Ike by placing before him any of his ideas concerning 
the downward course of all he ever knew who kept at 
it until it became a necessity. 

Ruth was in her place beside grandfather Draque 
and required his attention. The conversation became 
trivial, Jabez asking the children childish questions, 
and with satisfaction listening to their answers. All 
along, since Ike was a boy, Draque took great pride 
in clever children, and now Ruth was his ideal. Upon 
the first lull that came from children’s prattle he took 
occasion to stroke her curls and say : 

“Ruth ’ill catch up to them all yet — won’t you, 
Ruth?’’ 


220 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


Ruth was as certain as her grandfather that all he 
said was true, and in a clear voice rang out the em- 
phatic “Yes. ” 

“Take care, Ruth,” said Ike, who laughed at her 
across the table. 

Ruth squirmed around in her chair, trying to turn 
her back as fully upon him as possible, which, much to 
her discomfiture, caused general laughter. 

Draque put his hand on her shoulder and said : 

“Never mind, Ruth. I’ll wager you’ll hold your 
own with any of them. ’ ’ 


CHAPTER XXL 


Why should not Ruth “hold her own with any of 
them” when, to all appearance, every advantage that 
would enable her to do so was on her side? She was 
growing up under the shadow of steeples, with the 
clear tones of bells sounding in her ears, daily calling 
either to worship in the house of God or duty in the 
school room. She had no pulling through snow drifts, 
where, at the end of the pull, in an eighteen by twenty 
cabin, she must be initiated into the mysteries of 
mathematics, the English language, and the words 
without end they found in the dictionary, after be- 
coming familiar with every thing in the speller. She 
was surrounded by all the great helps to develop the 
intellectual. 

One morning early in September, when Meg was pre- 
paring her for her first day at school, her eyes bright- 
ened with delight and her little tongue ran loose recit- 
ing all she was going to do, while she looked often at 
grandfather Draque, who stood looking down at her, 
holding his hands behind his back and showing well 
preserved teeth, to be certain he had no word of cor- 
rection and that she was telling it all straight. She 
started on her way to school satisfied with herself and 
everybody, and with grandfather’s last words sounding 
in her ears: 

“Ruth’s the best girl in the county.’’ 

She tripped gaily along, hop, skip and jump, now 
taking time to breathe and again racing, until she 
came upon an apparition as she neared the school house 
that took all the lovable out of her nature. 


221 


252 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE, 


The September sun was hot, and poured his hottest 
rays on the side of the street she chose, which, with 
the exertion on her part, had painted her face scarlet. 
The apparition called to her in a rather displeased 
voice : 

‘ ‘ Ruth, stop running. ’ ’ 

Ruth turned her eyes full upon the owner of the 
voice, sidled along for a while on the very edge of the 
curbstone, in danger of toppling into the gutter, and 
then started on the run harder than ever. 

Ike bit his lip as he proceeded quietly on his journey, 
at the same time revolving in his mind several methods 
by which he might bring Ruth into subjection. 

He did not usually leave the office at that hour, but 
months had proved that Tobias Lenk was not as easily 
placed upon his feet as he had anticipated,* and before 
proceeding further he decided to have a talk with his 
father, who answered his first question, saying: 

“I’m no lawyer, Ike, but it doesn’t take a lawyer to 
see plainly many a thing happening about here and 
what’s bound to come of it. ’’ 

Ike made no reply, but was exceedingly nervous and 
very restless. He paced up and down the floor in a 
dilemma out of which he saw no way, as he had always 
when the question under consideration was slavery. 

Draque sat watching his movements, as independent 
in his own way of thinking as ever, and said at last : 

“Tobe hasn’t much longer to live, Ike, and any way 
you can fix it for him that ’ill give him the least trouble 
the better. He put his foot in it, that’s certain, for, if 
all I’ve heard be true, the farm isn’t any more his 
than the cattle. ’ ’ 

■ Draque shook his head slowly as he said, more to 
himself than to Ike : 

“But Tobe ’ill not need it long, and it’s well for 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


223 


his wife she doesn’t promise to outlive him a great 
while. Who’d ever have thought, when he was so 
earnest in his endeavor to help the negro in the South, 
that things would ever come to such a pass with him- 
self?” 

At mention of the South Ike instantly stopped his 
promenade, wheeled around facing his father, and 
with much emphasis asked : 

“Are you sure his farm is mortgaged for all it is 
worth?” 

“I won’t say it’s mortgaged for all it’s worth, Ike,” 
replied Draque, “but it’s mortgaged for all he’ll ever 
get for it. ’ ’ 

Ike had not changed his position while his father 
answered his question, and he still stood as if immov- 
able while he propounded the second : 

“Did Tobe tell you his circumstances?” 

“He didn’t,” answered Draque, “nor did he tell 
anybody that I know of. Jabez told me all about it, 
however he found it out, and he’s not likely to tell 
a thing he doesn’t know.” 

Ike moved a chair nearby closer to his father’s side 
and, seating himself, continued : 

‘ ‘ The man who is about to foreclose the mortgage on 
the farm is doing so, as you understand, through his 
attorney. I have not learned who he is. If he is a 
friend or a man of honor he might be persuaded to 
drop the case under existing circumstances; that is, 
until Tobe either dies or gets better. ’ ’ 

“That same wouldn’t be asking him to make any 
sacrifice, I know, but the man that holds the mortgage, 
Ike, doesn’t care much for anything or anybody out- 
side of his own house but dollars and what they’ll 
buy, ’ ’ replied his father. 

" . Ike straightened up, and in astonishment asked: 


224 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


“Do you know who he is, father?” 

“I’ve known him about as long as I’ve known you, 
Ike, and at one time knew him well,” answered 
Draque, evidently not intent upon giving his name at 
once, “and, like many another man, came nigh know- 
ing him to my sorrow; but with God’s help, through 
the kindness of a friend, I was brought to see what 
wiser heads are not able to see to this day. 

Ike was not the sort of a man who would insist upon 
drawing unwilling information, much as he would like 
it, out of his old father. He knew pretty well all the 
men his father had known for the length of time he 
mentioned, and sat for some moments as completely 
out on the farm as if he was there bodily, going from 
one neighbor’s house to another trying to settle upon 
the neighbor who had Tobe so completely at his mercy. 
Draque sat with his head bowed low, and made no 
further attempt to make the way any clearer for Ike. 
If Ike came to any conclusion as to who the man might 
be, he did not place the name before his father with 
the hope that he might sanction it by an affirmation. 
It was evident the conversation on that subject could 
be carried no further, and Ike said pleasantly as he 
arose ; 

“I think I’ll have to tell Meg I will not be home to 
dinner. This unfortunate business must be wound 
up, and much time for other demands will not be at 
my disposal until I see it to the end. ’ ’ 

Ike left the room to find Meg, but returned shortly 
to the tempting closet that always held in store for 
him, and often for an indefinite length, a substitute 
for all life’s necessaries. Although Draque had not 
raised his head he was alive to the fact that Ike — not 
exactly in defiance of his wishes and Meg’s entreaties, 
but in the face of them nevertheless — was taking what 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


225 


long ago he would call in a thoughtless, jocose man- 
ner, “a good swig.” As he sat there, too, he thought 
of how mother talked to him about spending money 
that could be turned to better use right at home, and, 
instead of becoming more erect, his head was inclined 
to drop lower, until Ike had replaced everything in 
'the closet save half the contents of one bottle, and 
quickly shut the door. It was no surprise, but the 
click caused Draque to start involuntarily, and he 
said as Ike was about to step out : 

“I hope you’ll have luck. ” 

Ike was busy thinking how much his father might 
contribute toward that luck if he were only so inclined, 
but respectfully said, ‘ ‘ I hope so, ’ ’ and was gone. 

They saw nothing more of Ike for a couple of days, 
but were not uneasy on that account, for a note was 
sent to the house that evening, saying ‘‘important 
business was taking him out of town. ” As Meg read 
for Draque he said : 

“He’s taken a run to the old home. I’ll wager. 
Tobe’s in trouble and very sick. Ike has his case and 
thought that was the surest way to get at the bottom 
of it. He’ll stop at your place tonight, Meg.” In a 
changed tone he continued: “I wouldn’t care if I was 
dropping in on Jabez myself tonight.” 

“It will be very late when he reaches there,” said 
Meg, as she looked at Ike’s untouched plate. 

“Don’t be afraid he’ll go hungry, Meg,” said Draque, 
laughing. “Wherever he goes he’s capable of attend- 
ing to that. ” 

“I have no such fear,” replied Meg. 

“It doesn’t take so long to go that distance as it 
used to, Meg,” said Draque, always loving to dwell 
upon the past, and in a serious manner continued, now 
for the benefit of the children, who anticipated what 

15 


226 ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 

was coming and were all attention, for the fields 
grandfather talked about were like fairyland to them : 
“I remember the time when it wouldn’t do to start 
that distance without making considerable prepa- 
ration. ” He patted Ike’s handsome boy — who had got- 
ten as close to him as possible to hear the story — on 
the head, and went on: “In the first place, a man 
would have to wait for a moonlight night or he’d be 
liable to run plumb into a big tree, and that shortly 
after twilight. ’ ’ 

“I don’t think papa ever stopped to think whether 
the moon was shining or not,” rang out the voice at 
his elbow. Draque continued: 

“You’d have to have a few extra provisions in your 
pocket, too, boy, for fear you’d get off the track, and 
swing around a day or two later than 5^ou expected. 
It wouldn’t do to leave the gun behind either, not that 
you’d be in danger of being popped by the Indians, 
but a man would be liable to meet many a thing in 
the woods that lay between here and there that he’d 
not feel comfortable in the presence of if he hadn’t his 
gun beside him. ” 

The children, now thoroughly aroused by the recital, 
opened their eyes in astonishment, and still in expec- 
tation. 

“A boy wouldn’t have to stretch his imagination 
very far,” continued Draque, “to imagine he saw a 
great bear skulking about in his tracks. ’ ’ 

“I don’t believe I’d like to live in woods like that,” 
said the wondering boy. 

“I don’t blame you much for that same,” said 
Draque, “but when your grandfather came here there 
wasn’t much choice.” 

Ruth was beside grandfather and, too tired to listen, 
longer^ had laid her head on the arm of his chair and 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


227 


was sound asleep. Draque lifted the curls out of her 
eyes, and said, as he looked at Meg, laughing: 

“Ruth doesn’t care much for bears or anything else 
when she can get her head close to me.” 

“Ruth certainly thinks you are capable of protecting 
her from every harm,” replied Meg. 

While the family were thus entertaining themselves 
at home Ike set foot on the old ground. Memories as 
pleasant as follow in the footsteps of the average good 
man who has God and conscience uppermost in his 
walk through life gathered around him. But he could 
not detach the sad happenings in the onward progress 
for better things. A melancholy hangs over the de- 
parture of a man’s first loves in nature, which the 
sight of early surroundings at once calls forth, when 
upon the scene once more where appeared to him his 
first bright visions and where he dreamed his youthful 
dreams. There is not such bewitching melody in the 
songbird’s note. Every sound coming to his soul is 
laden with voices telling him he is going down the hill ; 
that the tragedy, not necessarily at hand, still is near- 
ing. It was a beautiful night, and Ike comfortably 
perched himself on the top of a rail fence in a conven- 
ient corner, where the top rail had slipped a little out 
of place and rested upon a lower, as if for nothing 
but to offer him accommodation, and kept watch for 
a while with the night owl, that in a tree not a half 
mile away, in all the variations possible for his throat, 
screeched the long familiar too-hoo into his attentive 
ear. 

He had not intended to see Tobe that night and 
consequently was in no hurry. His father’s house was 
in complete darkness, and that darkness full of mean- 
ing. He looked often at a light in Jabez’s cosy sitting 
room, and, while he was not anxious to reach that 


228 


ISAAC DRAQUE, TttE BUCKEYE. 


point sooner tlian necessary, he did not intend to let 
the light be long extinguished before he called for ad- 
mission at the hospitable door. 

A man of mature years and much experience would 
never perch himself on a rail fence like a love lorn lad 
or an unsettled wanderer, unless upon the spot where 
his young soul opened into conscious being and was 
charmed with all the natural beauties in which it was 
immersed. Such was Ike’s position. The stars were 
exceedingly bright for the season, and he traced the 
triangles and forms so well known to him when a boy, 
and of which he now knew considerable aside from 
their position and brightness, and the other and prin- 
cipal knowledge, that they are the work of a Heavenly 
Father, and that he, a little mite on the rail fence, 
was of more real worth than the largest and brightest 
among them; for out of consideration for his well 
being Jesus lived and died. 

Upon such occasions thoughts that come to the soul 
for contemplation are overwhelming. Besides the 
silent voice, nature poured in from all sides sweet fa- 
miliar sounds. Ike sat and looked and listened ; forgot 
the light in the window and Jabez’s house. 

A rat or some small night wanderer attracted the 
attention of Jabez’s dog, that, true to his protective 
instinct, startled all within hearing who were not deaf 
or completely in the embrace of Morpheus. Ike raised 
himself from the half reclining position he had as- 
sumed, with elbow resting on the top rail, and chin 
and cheek buried in his hand, at once saw there was 
no light, and thought of the lateness of the hour. 

“They are all asleep, I’m sure,” said Ike half aloud, 
as he sprang from the fence and stepped quickly toward 
the house. 

The dog met him half way with terrific bow-wows. 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 229 

He was a large animal and had a voice in proportion 
to his size ; but when he came upon Ike he was willing 
to renew acquaintance and stand upon friendly terms. 
He playfully leaped around him in wild delight, and in 
cooler moments ran ahead, turned around, faced him, 
laid his head on the ground between his fore legs, and 
in expectation waited for the figure he had so often 
seen about the place, and that his master treated with 
such consideration. 

“I’m sorry to disturb you,” was Ike’s salutation, 
after going from the front to a side door, rapping first 
gently and then with considerable vigor, as he was 
obliged to do before he had any of the family aroused. 

“We don’t find any fault with being disturbed,” 
said Jabez, with more than a father-in-law’s best feel- 
ings in the grasp of the extended hand ; for J abez ex- 
pressed his solicitude for Meg and the children. 

“There is nothing wrong at home,” said Ike, inter- 
preting the shake combined with the anxious look on 
Jabez ’s face. “The wrong is all at this end of the 
road. I came in on the last train, and, as you have 
done away with the stage-coach, I didn’t think it worth 
while to call out a livery horse for the short distance.” 

“The train!” ejaculated Jabez, in astonishment. 
“That’s in three hours ago. I hope an old timer like 
you didn’t lose your path. ” 

“Not a bit of danger of it,” responded Ike, with a 
ringing laugh just as of old; “but I found a comfort- 
able place on the rail fence over there and took a look 
at your orchard, wheat field, potato patch, and things 
in general. ’ ’ 

“I hope you haven’t been three hours at it, Ike,” 
said Jabez, stepping about to find a place on the table 
for the light he held in his hand, at the same time 
turning a chair around for Ike. 


230 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


“I must have been captivated by the surroundings,” 
replied Ike, “for I had no idea regarding the length of 
my musings until Bounce brought me to my senses, 
and the only regret I have is that I was obliged to dis- 
turb you. ” 

“I hope you’ll never have more occasion to be sorry 
for anything,” said Jabez. “For I’ll declare my 
pleasure is greater than your sorrow. As long as 
you come with no bad news I’ll light you to your room 
rejoicing, and we’ll talk tomorrow.” 

“The business I am on is not the most delightful, 
but it does not concern the family, ’ ’ replied Ike, as he 
took the offered lamp from Jabez, and both retired. 

Bounce barked away at something real or imaginary, 
which, combined with the excitement of meeting, 
chased sleep from the two men until the night was well 
spent, but early morning found both astir, and as 
composed as if Ike had come direct from the train, 
and not devoted hours to meditation. 

After a pleasant morning chat with Jabez and 
Peggy, Ike explained his unexpected appearance, and 
spoke of his business with Tobe. 

“It’s all up with Tobe,” said Jabez; “he’s in no 
way to talk business with any one ; the neighbors are 
watching with him in turn. You may as well stay 
with us as go there, unless it’s to look at him for the 
last time. ’ ’ 

What Jabez had to say threw Ike into a deep study 
for some moments. He said in answer to Jabez ’s look 
of inquiry: 

‘ ‘ I would like to see Tobe alive. ’ ’ 

Peggy looked after Ike until the orchard hid him 
from view, and then set about attending to her house- 
hold as energetically as she had done in her younger 
days, when it would be a very lively tune she could 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


231 


not keep time with handling the chum dasher, Jabez 
noticed her agile movements and said : 

“It brightens one up a bit to see Ike, doesn’t it 
Peggy?” 

“Yes,” said Peggy laughing. “The sight of him 
this morning has made me feel twenty years younger. ’ ’ 

“There’s a good deal of old Draque about him,” said 
Jabez meditatively. “It takes more than a breeze to 
turn him out of his course, right or wrong. ’ ’ 

Peggy straightened, and looking squarely over her 
glasses at J abez said : 

“He’s the kind of a man we all like, after all, with 
back bone of his own. You and Tobe and Draque had 
many a tilt in the past concerning things you felt com- 
pelled to look at in different ways. ’ ’ 

“We had,” said Jabez, as he watched her as closely 
as she had been scanning him, “and Draque is coming 
out ahead of us do I hear you say?” 

“Well, not exactly,” drawled Peggy. “At least 
not ahead of you, but we both saw the day when we’d 
have given more for Tobe’s chances than for 
Draque ’ s. ” 

“I know it,” said Jabez, “but, for all that, it’s just 
because Ike’s so much like his father that I tremble 
for his family. ’ ’ 

“It’s hard to believe, Jabez, it really is,” said 
Peggy, while tears chased each other down her cheeks, 
as she thought of Meg and the children, “when a few 
years ago we couldn’t see a fault we could find in Ike. ” 

Both sat for some time thinking seriously, with eyes 
fixed on nothing in particular, and yet to an observer 
appearing as if sight was the particular sense they 
were making use of. Jabez raised his head, and said 
in a slow, solemn manner, denoting conviction back of 
every word; 


232 ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 

“Peggy, John Strand and Tobias Lenk are both 
gone the same way — that the engine knocked the 
breath out of John some years sooner than Tobe went 
down doesn’t make him any more a wreck from the 
same cause. Sensible as Tobe was, and intent on do- 
ing good, he could never be made see how he was de- 
stroying himself. ” 

J abez could not well control feelings of indignation 
that were prone to rise when he faced the home prob- 
lem so few were inclined to handle roughly, and that 
was devastating more homes, destroying more souls, 
and degrading a greater majority by far than the 
chains that had clanked in the South and aroused 
Tobe’s sympathy for those compelled to wear them, 
and filled him with undying determination to work 
until they were broken. Jabez laid his hand on the 
table hard, and said in a louder and even more earnest 
tone than he had spoken his last honest thoughts to 
Peggy. “It’s just as I always said, Peggy, every one 
that takes the stuff is bound to go down sooner or later. ’ ’ 

“It’s strange,’’ said Peggy, “but we never can ac- 
count for the reasons people will have for thinking one 
way or the other. That the minister took a drink, 
and that they drank in olden times always seemed to 
Tobe substantial reasons why he should drink. ’ ’ 

“And yet,’’ said Jabez, with 'a rather sarcastic 
twitch of the lips, “that Abraham had slaves, and 
that the custom was prevalent in olden times never 
had any weight in his way of thinking about slavery. ’ ’ 

He repented of the unfriendly feeling that for a 
single moment took possession of him as he was 
forced to associate Tobe with the great army he con- 
sidered enemies of the human kind. He was willing 
to acknowledge it was an oversight in Tobe for which 
it was hard to account — with his good sense on the 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


233 


one side and facts so conclusive on the other. Peggy 
shoved a paper to one side, saying: 

“It tires me to look over the papers and read of the 
crimes committed nowadays. I often think we were 
farther advanced in civilization when we weren’t 
counted so intelligent. ’ ’ 

“If the knowing a lot of facts and not living up to 
anything in particular isn’t high intelligence, there 
are a great many that can’t make much boast, judg- 
ing from newspaper accounts; that’s a fact, Peggy,’’ 
said Jabez, “but if I had my way I’d deal differently 
with half the criminals so-called. ’’ 

At this point their conversation was stopped. Ike 
did not see Tobe alive ; he had died an hour earlier. 
Klomp had been watching and was beside the dead 
when Ike arrived. Neither spoke while Ike looked 
upon all that remained of Tobias Lenk; he had 
learned to face the inevitable more calmly than when 
little Tim’s upturned face filled him with both pity 
and reproach. Klomp had received some orders about 
the funeral, and was about to leave. Ike had no 
further business there, and left with Klomp. It was 
their appearance at Jabez’s that cut the conversation 
between Peggy and himself short. 

“There’s no need saying he’s gone,’’ said Jabez, as 
the two entered. “I see it in your faces, but I knew 
it wouldn’t be long when I left there last night. I told 
you, Klomp, he’d never want me back again.’’ 

Klomp inclined his head a little in assent, and 
dropped into the nearest chair. Thoughts of death 
occupied the minds of all to the exclusion of all other 
thoughts for a much longer time than was usual for 
silence to prevail. Jabez spoke first and said: 

‘ ‘ P^ggy I were talking of the great school Tobe 

belonged to just as you came in. ’’ 


234 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


Ike looked at him somewhat surprised and asked: 

“What school is that?’’ 

“The school of both grown and growing that never 
hear a word of opposition, or a lesson concerning the 
deadly effects of the drug they are every day tamper- 
ing with, as well as those that hear and don’t heed,” 
said Jabez. 

During Ike’s whole practice he had considerable 
reputation as a criminal lawyer, and since his return 
from the war many had not forgotten how it was 
thought and said, “his eloquence had undoubtedly 
swayed juries. ” It is certain his own strong, honest 
convictions were often so artlessly and marvelously 
conveyed to others that he helped them reach a point 
without which help it would be impossible to arrive, 
but no one could say he ever helped a man act con- 
trary to what his conscience told him was right. 

Notwithstanding all he had accomplished, his last 
client he had tried hard to save from the gallows with- 
out success. After taking breath Jabez continued, 
addressing his remarks this time particularly to Ike : 
“That poor fellow that was strangled to death the 
other day for chopping his mother’s head off was as 
free of malice as either you or I.” 

“I believe it,” said Ike, with enthusiasm glowing 
in his eyes and agitating his whole frame, “but that 
is one of the points it is hard to get at with accuracy 
— why a man temporarily insane from alcohol and one 
temporarily insane from some other cause should not 
be handled differently. ’ ’ 

Ike sighed as the appalling picture came vividly be- 
fore him, and he felt how powerless had been his 
efforts to save and said : 

“Public opinion has everything to do with the man- 
ner in which both are dealt by, that is certain. ’ ’ 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


235 


“And public opinion is sometimes off the track you 
used to think, Ike,” said Jabez, looking harder than 
ever at Ike. ‘‘I never read more distressing accounts 
of injustice in slavery’s palmiest days, and horrible, 
it’s true, some of them were, than we read every little 
while of things happening right at home, but it’s as 
Draque always said to Tobe,” continued Jabez, look- 
ing across the room at Klomp, and then back to 
Ike, “we can’t see because things are too close to the 
eye.” 

“The majority are inclined to take a more thorough 
view of things at a comfortable distance, you think, ’ ’ 
replied Ike thoughtfully. 

“That’s the way it would appear to me,” said 
Jabez, “when I compare things at home and abroad.” 

“But this is a different question altogether from the 
one you have reference to, ’ ’ said Ike. 

“I’ll admit it’s a different question entirely, ” an- 
swered Jabez; “it couldn’t well be the same, but that 
doesn’t hinder it being settled in the same way.” 

“By the ballot,” suggested Peggy, “but deliver us 
from the war. ’ ’ 

Ike wandered to the South, and was satisfied when 
he saw the black man free, with not all the advan- 
tages of his white brother, it is true, yet upon his own 
feet, a responsible agent, no longer an article of mer- 
chandise. He was just starting upon the path the 
ancestors of the American white man entered upon 
centuries ago, and must depend upon himself for his 
own, and the future destiny of his children, which, 
leaving all circumstances out of consideration, is an 
ennobling position. 

Klomp, who had been quiet during the conversation 
between Jabez and Ike, laughed and said: 

“When a man doesn’t see the way out of trouble 


236 ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 

that’s too close by his door, it’s kindness in his neigh- 
bor to show him. ’ ’ 

“That’s the kindness I’ve been trying to show my 
neighbors,” said Jabez laughing, “but so far have 
been showing the blind. It s plain many a man goes 
on thinking the wrong path’s the right until he comes 
to the end, and there’s no get out of it, and no man is 
more headstrong in going his own way than men of 
the great school that come to the end of the road, like 
John Strand, and Tobe and the man choked the other 
day. ’ ’ 

“We can do nothing short of acknowledging they’ve 
had many helps to lead them in a particular way 
that’s bad,” said Peggy, as her thoughts wandered 
back to Hiram Blank’s cabin where the young and un- 
suspecting crowded between barrels that held destruc- 
tion for them to give their father’s plenty of room. 

“It’s worse than that,” said Jabez; “like the gladi- 
ators of old, they’ve been trained for the diversion, 
and may be the revenue. ’ ’ 

After a moment’s pause he continued: “There’s a 
dollar and cent trouble at the bottom of it, sure as you 
live, just as there was with the slave question that’s 
been solved to your satisfaction and mine, and all we 
need is younger and stronger men than Draque and 
myself to take up the fight.” Jabez turned to Ike 
smiling and said : 

“If we could only find a couple of sympathizers in 
our cause with the earnestness and the push Tobe and 
yourself had in slavery times, there ’d be an end to the 
crimes and wholesale strangling in less than twenty 
years. I would never see it, it’s true, but I’d die 
knowing the day was near.” 

Ike’s willing tongue could convert no heartfelt emo- 
tions into speech. The sun of his enthusiasm had set. 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE, 


237 


While Jabez had resolved to enlist Ike’s sympathies in 
the cause he still had doubts, doubts based upon sub- 
stantial reasons; those reasons he expressed earlier in 
the day, when he said to Peggy, “There’s a good deal 
of old Draque about him.” 

He consequently set about making himself a more 
congenial companion during the remainder of Ike’s 
short stay, questioned him more particularly about home 
matters, and knowing Ruth’s dislike for him asked: 

“How is it with Ruth, does she take to you any bet- 
ter of late?” 

“Not a bit,” replied Ike, in a better humor than 
when she defied him on the street, and smiling as he 
spoke said : ‘ ‘ She cannot be brought to see that I have 
any right about the house, and to attempt to interfere 
with any of her plans is cause sufficient to arouse a 
spirit of rebellion in her best moments. ’ ’ 

“A while ago I thought the little tot would get over 
that, but now I’ve half a mind to think she never 
will,” said Peggy. 

“Ike ’ill have to conduct himself very gentlemanly if 
he ever wins Ruth’s confidence, that’s sure, after she’s 
held out this long,” said Jabez, as he looked at Peggy 
laughing. 

“Oh, it’s not impossible,” said Peggy, encourag- 
ingly to Ike, “but you’ll have to win her over from 
her own standpoint of the right, whatever that may 
be. You’ll have to study her disposition and tastes, 
and make yourself agreeable from her way of think- 
ing, it’s pretty evident.’’ 

Ike laughed aloud as he replied : 

“I think I understand her disposition and tastes. 
She’s disposed to be happy when I am not to be seen, 
and has a taste for everything enjoyable when I am 
left out. ” 


238 ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 

Klomp, who had been all attention during the con- 
versation concerning Ruth, said: 

“It’s not often you come across a child that kind- 
ness ’ill not win.” 

“Father calls those the sugar-plum kind,” replied 
Ike, and continued: “Ruth certainly will not accept 
any kindness from me. ’ ’ 

“She’s a very affectionate little thing for all that,” 
said Peggy. 

“There’s one person she’d die for,” said Jabez, 
“and that’s her grandfather Draque. I stand no show 
at all when he’s around. I think, too, the child has 
Bill in view, though she may not remember him,” 
continued Jabez, as he looked closely at Ike, probably 
thinking Ike might not have thought of such. ‘ ‘ She 
wasn’t deaf to her grandfather’s sorrow, young as she 
was. She knows, too, the soldiers killed him, and I 
don’t believe she’ll ever forget your uniform and brass 
buttons, Ike.” 

“That maybe her reason for disliking you,” said 
Peggy, “and, if it is, she’ll get over it when she gets 
to have sense. ’ ’ 

“It is sometimes really amusing,” said Ike, “to see 
how disdainfully she can treat me. ’ ’ 

“The Draques always go it whole hog in everything 
they undertake,” said Klomp, with great earnestness, 
which remark abruptly turned the conversation. 

Whether the three thus addressed thought it a joke 
or were pleased to hear the truth, must be wholly con- 
jecture. None attempted to affirm or deny the asser- 
tion. Klomp, rising, said: 

“I’ll have to leave you, Ike. I’ve some little things 
to attend to about the funeral. I suppose you’ll not 
wait till it’s over?” 

“I cannot,” said Ike; “you delay the funeral so 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


239 


long. I would like to be home tonight, but must be 
by tomorrow. ’ ’ 

“We have a way of our own of doing things in the 
country, and don’t hustle the dead away to get them 
out of sight, but bury them because we must, ’ ’ said 
Klomp, as he bade all good-morning and left. 

The next day Ike wandered through the field and 
woodland, and called upon the tenant living in his 
father’s house. The faces and forms before him there 
were visionary — the real ones he saw not. Bill was 
coming from the stable, as when last he saw him, and 
his mother had risen out of the easy-chair to see that 
things were made pleasant for Ike. He caught his 
breath as he was about to say: “Don’t put yourself to 
trouble for me, mother. ’ ’ He hastily said something 
to the tenant’s wife and soon was wandering aimlessly 
around. The fire that had animated him when there 
before now burned low, and the smoldering embers 
he did not care to coax back to life. He returned to 
the house and spent the remainder of his stay quietly 
with famfiliar books, some of which he and Meg had 
looked over together when children, and from them he 
had gotten his first ideas of the great big world. 

The farm must go — there was no way out of it — and 
unless Mrs. Tobias Lenk had a bank account of her 
own, she had a poor outlook for daily bread. There 
was nothing Ike could do for her there — then why 
stay longer? A couple of hours’ talk with Jabez and 
Peggy and he would be ready to leave on the evening 
train. The smoke from the locomotive curled over 
the passenger coaches as the train neared the big city 
facing a stiff breeze. Once in town, Ike was in no 
particular hurry home. His nerves had been subject 
to considerable friction, and a rest and something to 
brace him up were the much-desired things under 


240 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


present circumstances. Several hours later he reached 
home unmistakably under the weather from the effects 
of no dinner and some drink. 


CHAPTER XXII. 


Neighbor Klomp’s only child — a son — had in early 
years been sent to college, where he remained until 
the faculty saw fit to pronounce his education finished, 
and he now held a professorship in a famous college in 
the Buckeye state. He had not taken an active part 
like Ike in the War of the Rebellion, yet, like Ike and 
his own father, had gone over to the no-slavery side. 
He had voted for Abraham Lincoln, and probably had 
said many things that would give the few he came in 
contact with daily the idea that the Republican was 
the man needed ; but further than that he was passive 
both prior to and during the great struggle. 

It is reasonable to suppose he was a man God in- 
tended for other work. We find him now, as his posi- 
tion gave him considerable influence, the most prom- 
ising worker in the Prohibition field for a radius of 
many miles. 

All through life he and Ike had been warm friends, 
although circumstances kept them apart, and they 
could never be called companions. Their good feel- 
ings were based entirely upon early recollections, for 
after Draque decided that Ike should go to college 
and Klomp had set about giving his boy a thorough 
education, they had been thrown in each other’s com- 
pany but a very few times. They were independent 
thinkers of different types, the one standing by con- 
scientious convictions as firmly as the other. 

All the worry and anxiety Jabez was undergoing 
on account of Ike and his family could not be seen in 
his placid old face. He had heard and seen enough 


16 


241 


242 ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 

to be convinced it was high time something should be 
done to pick Ike out of the current that was carrying 
him along. He would like to be able to place all in 
Ike’s position on safe ground, but that was a wholesale 
question he was unable to handle. 

After Ike left, Jabez had very little to say to Peggy 
concerning the thoughts that were uppermost in his 
mind. He did not seek relief in asking sympathy. 
He undertook doing his headwork this time entirely 
alone, which was an unusual way, and he found it 
hard ; but in all their life no serious disagreeable ques- 
tion under consideration came so near home, and Jabez 
resolved to spare Peggy the pain and do all he 
could without arousing her suspicion that he thought 
there was such dire need of something being done for 
Ike. 

Peggy had not seen and heard as much as Jabez, 
but still was pretty shrewd in dissecting the little she 
had heard; and Jabez must have thought her some- 
thing of a mind-reader when she echoed his own 
thoughts as she adjusted her glasses just so, possibly 
to avoid suspicion of any doubts that might be harrow- 
ing her mind, when she. said to J abez : 

“I’ve been thinking that if somebody with deter- 
mination enough took Ike in hand he might be per- 
suaded to let drink alone. ’ ’ 

“That if is well put, Peggy,” replied Jabez, as he 
changed his position of right knee resting on the left 
to left resting on the right. 

“I know if is always in the way,” said Peggy; 
“but some people have the knack of rooting out ifs 
where others can’t. ” 

“I’d give a good deal this minute to know where to 
lay my hand on the man able to root out the if that’s 
bothering you and me,” answered Jabez. 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 243 

“It mightn’t be as hard a thing as you think, Jabez, 
once you go about it, ’ ’ said Peggy. 

J abez shook his head slowly as he replied : 

“My mind has undergone considerable change since 
John Strand first set me thinking. You see, Peggy, 
the farther we get on the more tangled the problems 
we have to solve. It’s not like the question of slavery 
we’ve just got through with, as Ike coolly said to me 
a while ago, where master and slave were two distinct 
persons. This is a question, Peggy, where master and 
slave are one — ^today master and tomorrow slave; 
tangled completely, and a marvel to the cool, calcu- 
lating man, who, as an observer of fads, sees master 
on top one day and slave the next. There are few, if 
any, I think, that understand the mix or deal justly 
by the man that appears to them single and yet is 
plural. The master makes up his mind today he’ll 
rid himself of the slave, but the slave has a voice and 
vows he’ll stay. He takes possession of the nerves 
and blood vessels, and makes it so uncomfortable for 
the master that he generally has his way, and no third 
party can force them apart. That’s the fix we’re in, 
Peggy. Ike can scatter his possessions to the winds, 
as the slave may say, or hand them all over to Hiram 
Blank or the like of him, just as Tobe did, and we 
daren’t lift a finger to oppose him, but must watch 
Meg and the children turned out on the street. ’ ’ 

“Don’t make it so bad as that, Jabez,’’ said Peggy, 
shuddering yet hopeful. “We sometimes read of a 
strong-minded man here and there reclaimed.’’ 

“We do,’’ replied Jabez, “and we read of a few 
Christians in heathen countries delivering themselves 
up to torture for Christ’s sake; but when we look at 
the bulk of Christians we find they’re very exceptional 
ones who’d undergo such torture. It’s one thing, 


244 ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 

Peggy, to look up to and admire a man that’s hero 
enough to endure anything, and another to be willing 
to walk in his tracks yourself. It’s my opinion Ike’s 
on a hard road to get off or he wouldn’t keep it. ” 
Peggy’s sobs dulled every other sound, as she saw 
her own Meg and her children out on the street — a 
picture premature, but probable. Often on other oc- 
casions the silent tears had trickled down her cheeks, 
but she as often dashed them away. Through her 
whole life she had faced facts as facts, and submitted 
to the inevitable ; but something told her this was a 
fact that should not be so faced, and in her very help- 
lessness she wept aloud. 

Jabez listened to the sobbing without saying a word. 
Sometimes when a man’s feelings are most intense he 
is least able to find words to express them. He is 
surprised by new emotions as a child is surprised by 
first sights, and, half dazed, he feels that no words he 
could select — no matter how arranged — could express 
to another the half he wishes. But such a state grad- 
ually wears away, and the man, like a piece of malle- 
able metal, is the better after every such blow of the 
hammer. After witnessing Peggy’s uncontrolled 
grief, Jabez’s resolution to do something was stronger 
than before. He looked at Peggy and said soothingly: 

“I don’t know just what plan to take, Peggy, but 
after the funeral we’ll devise some means to try to 
bring about what you say. ” 

“We mustn’t forget the funeral, that’s true,” said 
Peggy, rising. “Tobe’s wife sent for the black dress 
and bonnet. I must be looking them up for her. ” 
“What black dress and bonnet have you?” asked 
Jabez in surprise. 

“I have the dress and bonnet Mrs. Draque wore for 
Bill. I thought you* knew it,” answered Peggy. 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


245 


“Draque left some things with me to take care of 
when he was packing away, and they’re among the 
things I promised to take particular care of; but I 
know Draque would loan them, and I’ll do so.” 

“They’re none the worse for the wear, for the poor 
soul didn’t wear them long,” said Jabez as Peggy 
vanished from his sight in search of the mourning 
articles. 

At Tobe’s arrangements for the funeral had been 
progressing. Klomp assumed the responsibility of 
attending to all the little necessaries — in other words, 
he took upon himself the duties of undertaker and 
maybe more. He had the grave-digger at work, the 
pall-bearers named and notified ; he helped decide upon 
the time for the funeral, called upon the minister to 
ask his service, and had consolation in his words for 
Mrs. Tobias Lenk. 

had found, shaken out and wrapped both dress 
and bonnet, and had them ready for Jabez to carry to 
Tobe’s, as he proposed doing, for he was going there. 
Klomp was in the barn looking at the old buggy that 
was left as Jabez was passing on his way to the house. 
Jabez halted at the half-open door and looked in, when 
Klomp said: 

“I’m thinking this old buggy isn’t fit to carry Tobe’s 
wife to the funeral. I think I’ll have to look to some 
of the neighbors for another. ’ ’ 

Jabez stepped in and took a survey of the buggy, 
saying : 

“They might as well take that with the rest.” 

“It’s not worth hauling away or it wouldn’t be here, 
you may be sure, ’ ’ replied Klomp. 

Jabez rested his elbow on the rickety buggy and 
looked around. There was not enough left on the 
place to pay the doctor’s bill and funeral expenses. 


246 ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 

although the last named were to be very small. The 
farm belonged to Hiram Blank, and Mrs. Lenk was a 
charity subject in as full a sense as John Strand’s wife 
was some years before, with this only difference — Tobe 
was gone; he would never hang around drunk and 
helpless, to torment, as John had done. After all, the 
epidemic with him took a more respectable turn. As 
the public viewed it, the disgrace lay in the inability 
to stand straight or walk. Whatever else proceeded 
from drink was looked upon with a certain degree of 
astonishment, but never with the same degree of dis- 
approbation by the mass of intelligent lookers on. 
They never stopped to ask themselves the question — 
Was the man whose life was taken from him in some 
horrible way necessarily a more wicked man than this? 
But when frenzy is reached and another horror chroni- 
cled, the work of a madman, all are ready to denounce ; 
never satisfied until he is stretched out lifeless. 

Jabez stood aloof from the masses, for it could be 
truly said he was not one of them. They were all at 
some point along the very road John Strand and Tobias 
Lenk had traveled. There were many — and some of 
the many well up in years, too — who boasted they had 
never felt the certain paroxysms known as drunken- 
ness, though they had taken a drink off and on all 
their lives. But that they should be held responsible 
for leaving themselves liable Jabez more fully believed 
than that the poor unfortunate already crazed should 
be handled like a beast and led to the slaughter. 

Jabez ’s rest was prolonged and Klomp was getting 
uneasy. He must be looking after a suitable buggy. 
He moved a little from where he was standing in the 
direction of the door, when Jabez aroused and said, 
more excitedly than was his habit : 

“I don’t believe the slaveholders’ guilt as great as 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


247 


ours, Klomp; no, not even when he used the lash, 
when we stand mutely around witnesses of such dread- 
ful happenings as that last week in our own county. 
I’ll tell you,” he continued, without an answer from 
Klomp, “I believe voters responsible for the head 
chopped off and the strangulation that followed.” 

Klomp admitted the case under consideration, as 
well as numerous other cases, were deplorable. He 
said to Jabez as the two walked to the house together: 

“I’m not in the habit of keeping the stuff about the 
house as Tobe was, nor do I care for it particularly of 
late years, but still I never object to taking a drink 
occasionally, and, when I think custom demands it, I 
bring it in the house about the same as I did when 
Hibe first put on the back-logs for the accommodation 
of Tobe and Draque and myself, as well as many an- 
other man. But since Draque fell off I never troubled 
Hibe or any one much, for the want of suitable com- 
pany. ’ ’ 

Here Klomp threw back his head and said : 

“I never saw the day, Jabez — that you well know — 
I wasn’t solid on my feet, and that’s the correct way 
to look at it, I think. ” 

“I’m not so sure it is,” answered Jabez. “Tobe 
was always pretty solid on his feet until very lately, 
at least there weren’t many among us who’d like to 
say to his face he wasn’t.” Looking earnestly at 
Klomp, Jabez continued: “I look at it something after 
this manner, Klomp. It mightn’t take but one bullet 
to kill one man, while two or three lodged in another 
mightn’t kill him at all. It’s just as certain, too, that 
death was in every one of the bullets, only, for some 
reason unaccountable to you and me, the three bullets 
failed to hit the mark. The one that carries the three 
bullets lives, but that doesn’t prove he isn’t more 


248 ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 

to be pitied than the one that lost his life in the 
start; he’s a sufferer, and he’ll be brought down at 
last. ” 

They had nearly reached the house, and Jabez slack- 
ened his steps as he continued : 

“I feel pretty well convinced, too, as every one 
must that thinks about it seriously, that the last men- 
tioned man isn’t surgeon enough to extract the bullets 
himself. ’ ’ 

“That may all be,’’ replied Klomp, “but what are 
you going to do about it?’’ 

“No small number of men is going to do much 
about it,’’ said Jabez, “when their best friends on 
every side can see their neighbors picked off and feel 
satisfied with the work of the bullets as long as they 
can walk straight carrying them themselves. ’ ’ 

Klomp acquiesced to what Jabez said without due 
consideration ; he may not have felt the remark suited 
him. If he did he was too much engrossed with pres- 
ent duty to feel inclined to argue his case. Through 
his instrumentality the hour for the funeral had been 
set at 2 o’clock the next afternoon, and he said to 
Jabez as he parted with him at the door of Tobe’s late 
home: 

“It would take some lively stepping around, being 
as I have to hunt a buggy for the accommodation of 
Tobe’s wife, as I hadn’t counted on that in the morn- 
ing.’’ 

Jabez deposited the mourning garments on a table 
and stepped to the bed where lay the remains of the 
man he had watched with so short a time before. The 
vigilant worker and true friend of the slave; the man 
that, had he lived a fortnight longer, would be thrown 
out of the home and from beside the hearth where he 
had spent so many hours, through many years, revolv- 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


249 


ing in his mind methods by which he might help the 
oppressed, who enjoyed not the happy freedom he 
possessed. 

After some minutes’ silent contemplation beside the 
dead, Jabez left. Peggy was never known to wear 
mourning, but she possessed a black dress she wore to 
funerals. Jabez found her scrupulously brushing and 
turning over the folds, and humming a not altogether 
melancholy air. She did not see him until he accosted 
her with : 

“Well, Peggy, these lives of ours are pretty well 
balanced between pain and pleasure, aren’t they?’’ 

Peggy started, remembering the mood she \yas in 
earlier in the day, and laughed as she said : 

“Yes. Since I was a little one I never saw the time 
smiles and tears weren’t playing hide-and-go-seek with 
me.” 

“When one is just on the balance and coolly specu- 
lating, it’s hard to say which one feels the happier 
after, smiles or tears, isn’t it, Peggy?” asked Jabez. 

“If it’s something like a broken limb that causes the 
tears you’re happy^ after if’s healed; but if the pain 
comes from some outside cause you’re not happy while 
that cause exists, whether you laugh or cry, that’s cer- 
tain, ” said Peggy, settling upon recollections of the 
morning. 

After a round of fifteen minutes’ silence Jabez said: 

“I’m an old man and it’s pretty late in the day for 
me to attempt such a thing, but I’m going to give 
what strength I have left to the cause that’s such an 
infant beside its opponent. I’ve known for some time 
that Jacob Klomp has been laughed at as a Prohibitionist 
— now he has to be a man, that stands on his feet 
square, like he does, with the whole country hooting 
at him. He’s under hotter fire than ever Tobe was 


250 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


more than thirty years ago when he cropped out among 
us a solitary Abolitionist. Klomp said nothing 
about it in the last few days, but before Tobe got so 
low he told me he was looking for him to spend a few 
days with them in the course of a few weeks. I’d like 
to bring him and Ike together. If there’s anything 
in determination or persuasion — as you think there 
may be — Ike would have the benefit of it, for he’d 
have to face his equal there. ’ ’ 

“He may be a match for him now, but I doubt if 
he would have been ten or twelve years ago,’’ said 
looking back with pride to the time they could 
find no fault in Ike. 


CHAPTER XXIII. 


Mrs. Tobias Lenk had been sent to the county poor 
farm. The beautiful yellow and russet leaves had 
fallen from the trees and made a cushion under the 
feet of the nut-gatherer, who was compelled to turn 
them over and over in search of the nuts ; while some- 
times an enthusiastic lover of the beautiful, forgetful 
of the nuts, emerged from the wood laden with some 
of the most beautiful of the autumn leaves. 

This evening the sun had almost set. The lone, 
leafless tree that stood in Braque’s cleared lot, and 
which upon a certain occasion in the springtime so 
gracefully bowed unto Ike, displayed nothing but bright 
clouds between its bare, stiff branches. The air was 
getting too chilly for longer search, when a woman 
with a basket filled, and a little girl avaricious enough 
to take more than she could well carry, came along a 
beaten path toward J abez’s house. The woman walked 
leisurely, but the child — overloaded — every few mo- 
ments dropped some of the leaves, which she always 
stopped to pick up and add to the great bunch as she 
ran along — for run she must to make up for the time 
lost, if she wished to be near her mother. 

To the beholder, the child was the personification 
of perfect health and high spirits ; her curls flying in 
the wind and the pupils of her brown eyes large, 
owing to the exercise and happy emotions. She 
bounded into the house before her mother, threw the 
leaves upon a table, and said in a triumphant manner, 
as she looked at her grandmother : 

“See there!” 


251 


252 ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 

“They’re very pretty, Ruth, ” said her grandmother, 
who turned to Jabez, saying: “She’s just like her 
mother that way, though she doesn’t look like her a 
bit; always wild over flowers and such things she 
picked in the woods. ’ ’ 

“What are you going to do with them, Ruth?” asked 
J abez. 

“Give them to grandfather,” came the quick reply. 

“Well, you might as well hand them over now,” 
said Jabez coolly, well knowing they would not be left 
with him. 

Ruth looked at him surprised and a little abashed said : 

“They’re for grandfather Draque. ” 

“Do you give him all the pretty things you get, 
Ruth?” asked Peggy. 

“Most all,” replied Ruth, as she commenced bring- 
ing the scattered leaves closer together, as if she 
feared she might not be able to place them where she 
wished. Ruth’s mother had entered and stood by the 
table. Upon being refused the leaves, Jabez smiled 
as he looked at Meg, who said : 

“Won’t you give grandfather Ghent some of the 
leaves, Ruth?” 

Ruth had her arms around the pile, and her cheek 
resting on the top; she straightened slowly, looked 
alternately from her grandfather to the beauties, coyly 
selected a few, and placed them in his hand. 

‘ ‘ I have a great deal to thank you for when it comes 
to giving away what you intended for grandfather 
Draque, haven’t I, Ruth?” asked Jabez. 

Ruth put her hand under the pile and tossed the 
leaves, saying: 

“I’ve lots left, see?” 

“You’re right, Ruth. If you hadn’t lots left I 
wouldn’t get these, would I?” 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 253 

Ruth’s .answer was a positive shake of the head. 
Meg laid her basket away with care and said to her 
mother : 

“When I get into the woods I forget all the years 
that have passed since I left them. Books are musty 
and erudition a second-hand thing beside the sweet 
freshness of God’s messages conveyed to the soul 
_ through such charming messengers as these. ’ ’ 

She picked up a handful of Ruth’s bright leaves, 
and gradually dropped one after another, so she could 
revel in the beauty of each particular leaf as it fell. 

“They’re like your mother and me, Meg, in their, 
old age,’’ said Jabez. 

“We snatched them from the grave,’’ answered 
Meg, “and are going to embalm them. ’’ 

“When one has a will to so snatch human flowers it’s 
a pity it’s not so easily done,’’ said Jabez, with a sigh. 

Meg understood all meant by the remark, and the 
thrust went far deeper than Jabez intended it should, 
for he had no intention of giving pain. The light 
faded from her eyes, her face blanched a moment and 
then tears came in torrents. 

“It’s no use, Meg, it’s no use,’’ said Jabez consol- 
ingly. 

He then rested his head on the high back of his 
chair, looked at something far beyond his farthest line 
fence and talked to himself. 

“When we read accounts of children taken from 
their parents and sold to different masters, and many 
other similar cruelties, we were affected very percept- 
ibly here in the north, and not without good reason. 
The day is coming for the emancipation of the drunk- 
ard’s family, but I fear it’s too far off to save you from 
torture, Meg. For our immediate families we realized 
too late the nature of the plague that, while we were 


254 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


helping others, was settling down upon ourselves. It’s 
not like pestilence or cholera or black death that in 
time spends itself, but it’s come to stay — to be culti- 
vated and propagated, and just such method as wiped 
out the curse of slavery is going to wipe out this, and 
no other. Those that are able to realize the horror 
and its cure must work with desperation. I’m not 
likely to see it to the end, but there are plenty as 
capable of bringing it about as Tobe and Ike and men 
of their stamp were to handle what they undertook, 
once they’re found out and put in motion.” 

During the silence Meg had dropped into a chair by 
the table, and aimlessly assorted and piled Ruth’s 
leaves, while Ruth, too tired for further exertion, sat 
mutely looking at her mother, her eyelids so heavy 
that in spite of efforts to keep them open they would 
sometimes cover her big eyes and her head would go 
down with a jerk. 

Jabez aroused and said to Peggy as she came in to 
seat herself for a short rest : 

“If we don’t have supper here soon, Peggy, a little 
girl we both know ’ill not be able to eat. Isn’t that 
so, Ruth?” 

“I’m pretty tired,” answered Ruth, as she straight- 
ened her little figure, erected her pretty chin, and 
flashed light from her brown eyes — eyes that, with 
chin and whole contour, told the determined creature 
she was. 

“Too tired to eat?” asked Jabez. 

“Not that tired,” answered Ruth, this time rubbing 
vigorously at her eyes as if she thought the whole 
trouble lay there. 

When seated at the table Jabez said to Meg: 

“Your mother tells me Ike’s not coming after you 
and Ruth as we expected, and I’m sorry for that.” 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 255 

“No,” answered Meg. “He feels he cannot leave 
home now under the circumstances. ’ ’ 

“Ike was always very generous in responding to 
solicitous invitations, and I’ll have to think he had 
good reason for not accepting mine,” said Jabez, look- 
ing at Meg. 

Meg’s smile had ceased to be the truly whole soul 
thing it was in former years, and with one of those 
smiles so unsuited to her face she answered her father: 

“He surely thinks he has. Jacob Klomp is to lect- 
ure in the city tomorrow evening, and Ike has been 
appointed one of a committee to meet him. On ac- 
count of old friendship he did not like to refuse. ’ ’ 
Jabez, with a brighter look in his countenance, said: 
“That alters the case completely. It’s been a long 
time since Klomp told me first he expected Jake at the 
house. What’s long promised comes at last. He said 
the last time we talked about it he’d be down tomor- 
row night. But this engagement I hadn’t heard of, or 
Klomp either; he’ll be a day or so late on account of 
it, that’s all, and I haven’t a doubt but that Ike ’ill 
come with him when he finds he’s coming. You’ll do 
well to wait and see, Meg. ” 

“It reminds me of the time Ike was full of engage- 
ments himself,” said Peggy, “and the way he could 
talk when he got roused up, and how the people held 
their breath listening to him. I wonder if Jacob 
Klomp or anybody today could compare with him in 
those days?” 

Jabez arrested Peggy’s further progress in speculat- 
ing as to whether or not such person existed, saying 
with a laugh twenty years younger than himself : 

“There are no times like the old times, Peggy; no 
days like the days when we were young. ’ ’ 

“It may be we have not so much to be enthusiastic 


256 ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 

over,” said Meg. “I’ve often heard Ike say the cause 
he championed would give voice to the dumb, if they 
could be brought to see the injustice as clearly as he 
saw it. ’ ’ 

“Child,” said Jabez, shaking his head, “all the 
good to be done in the world is not done yet, you may 
be sure. ’ ’ 

“There’s a greater question yet to be settled that 
will as surely call eloquence out of obscure places as 
well as high. There are louder and more piteous cries 
daily ascending to the throne frpm prostrate prayerful 
sufferers than ever came from slave lips, and I believe 
the great God is not deaf to it all, but listens. When 
the time comes means will be at hand to destroy the 
reptile that has been so long a pet, and that is poison- 
ing life in countless homes throughout the land to- 
day. ’ ’ 

“Yes, when the time comes,” said Peggy seriously. 

“The time will come when it’s brought about by the 
earnest work of intelligent voters, just as the time 
came for the slave,” said Jabez. He hesitated a mo- 
ment and continued: “Undoubtedly, it ’ill take time to 
concentrate the minds of the people on that point. 
They need constant nagging by earnest workers, pre- 
cisely as such nagging was necessary to convince them 
the black man was a person and not a thing. ’ ’ 

Meg had left the table to tuck tired, sleepy Ruth 
away after Jabez ’s first sentence in reply to her re- 
mark that there might be no cause at present to 
arouse enthusiasm. Her remark called forth all he 
had to say, but he was satisfied Peggy alone consti- 
tuted his audience before he gave vent to feelings that 
might again wound Meg. 

“Anyway,” said Peggy, while she threw the thread 
over the needle with the forefinger of her right hand 


ISAAC DRAQUE, the BUCKEYE. 


257 


SO swiftly that the outlines of the fingers were lost, 
and her whole hand looked much like her own old 
worn out butter ladle swinging back and forth, “while 
I’d very much like it, I don’t believe Jacob Klomp 
will cause the stir in that town Ike did. I’ll have to 
see it to be convinced. ’ ’ 

“You may not see it,’’ answered Jabez, “any more 
than myself, but the stir is bound to be made by Jacob 
Klomp or somebody. We concluded long ago, Peggy, 
at Tobe’s instigation, that truth and justice were 
levers sufficient to move anything when taken hold of 
by the right hands. They’re levers, too, that never 
lose in strength and value, although they may be long 
abused. ’ ’ 

Meg stepped into the room, and as she looked at her 
mother’s fingers flying and the growth of the stocking 
in her hand said : 

“You are as speedy a knitter as ever, mother. ” 

was proud of the compliment, but Jabez gave 
her no chance to reply; he turned to Meg saying: 

“In every respect it’s the proper thing to improve 
with time. ’ ’ 

“You carry it a little too far, Jabez,” said Peggy, 
“when you make no allowance for worn out ma- 
chinery. My fingers are not quite as supple as they 
used to be, though I go ahead with pretty good speed 
yet. ’ ’ 

The three chatted away pleasantly the remainder of 
the evening. Meg decided to prolong her visit, think- 
ing with her father Ike might accompany Jacob 
Klomp. The hoar frost worked busily all night; he 
came to kill, and morning showed how accurate had 
been his calculations. After his disappearance every 
thing left unprotected drooped in the morning sun. 

Meg stood by the window looking at the beds of flow- 
17 


258 ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 

ers and thought of the wonderful workings of nature 
— how a few weeks before the dew drops glistened on 
those leaves at that time in the morning, and dropped 
to the roots at a touch of the hand or the gentle sweep 
of the wind, leaving the moist leaves fresh and beau- 
tiful, but now, when sun dried, they would be crisp 
and burned and dead. 

Ike broke his engagement as one of the committee, 
and Jacob Klomp mounted the platform not having 
the satisfaction of greeting his old friend. Reproach 
was not thought of by any one, for something certainly 
happened that prevented punctual, thoroughgoing 
Isaac Draque from keeping his engagement. Despite 
the absence of the distinguished committee man, 
Jacob looked over a well filled house, and spoke to an 
attentive audience. That he was not as vehement and 
convincing in his oration as another many of his hear- 
ers remembered was owing, perhaps, to the subject, 
which was not one that would naturally call forth the 
greatest effort the speaker might be capable of, at 
least so thought the great intelligent body before him. 
He was instructive and entertaining, and left his 
hearers impressed with the feeling that a great deal 
lay slumbering back of all they were able to under- 
stand — not in the discourse, for that was pointed and 
plain, but in the man. 

He did not aspire to public speaking, and said it was 
a strange coincidence that placed him before them that 
night. He talked fluently on cause and effect, and 
from the eruption of volcanoes — the little spider’s web 
woven in the corner, and its effect upon the feet of the 
unfortunate fly that became entangled — to alcohol and 
its effect upon the nerves, and the whole man, he was 
master of the situation and perfectly at ease. 

The speaker left the next morning for his father’s 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


259 


home, without seeing Ike or learning the cause of his 
non-appearance. Probably no one could tell the exact 
cause, but Ike’s despairing old father, who had opened 
the door for him early in the ‘evening and guided his 
tottering footsteps to the bed, where he lay for hours 
unconscious of engagement, and not caring whether 
the world longer looked upon him as a responsible 
agent or not. But the awakening was pitiable, a spec- 
tacle more fully a cause to arouse sympathy in friend 
or foe than the helpless condition of a short time be- 
fore. All the manliness of his nature welled up in re- 
morse. At his father’s recital of what had passed, he 
clutched nervously at the counterpane and bit his 
quivering lip. 

Can it be possible, Ike, that you are as helpless as 
all others suffering from the same malady, that your 
wondrous strong mental and physical self has not 
some latent power, that at your will is yet equal to 
the calamity and able to rise above it? 

Ike stepped a few feet from the bed and threw him- 
self into a chair. The man who sat before his father 
looked the same as he had looked often before when 
that father felt he was so strong. Draque thought 
Ike’s gray hairs were not numerous enough to prove 
the man was incapacitated for even greater things than 
he had yet achieved. Those heavy, blurred eyes a few 
days would bring back to their natural beauty. Draque 
looked at Ike and said in tones full of beseeching love : 

“You surely ’ill not throw yourself away like John 
Strand or go down into the grave leaving those after 
you paupers like Tobe, will you, Ike?’’ 

Ike drew a long breath, but made no reply. He 
looked out the window to avoid his father’s scrutinizing 
glance — not the free agent he was when a lad of fifteen 
he blushingly drank his first drink in Hibe’s old cabin 


26 o 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


at his father’s command. Something outside claimed 
his attention for an unusual length of time ; he neither 
answered Draque nor turned his head. Draque, as 
much to break the silence and draw Ike out as from 
any other motive, said : 

I’m glad Meg’s not here this time, Ike; she’s had 
too much to bear of late, and is breaking down under 
it. How long will it be, Ike — how long. ’ ’ 

“Ike’s hand fell heavily by his side; he dropped his 
eyes, and yet not a word. He is calculating how long 
the ocean steamer without propelling power to carry 
it farther will flounder and toss in mid-ocean, surely a 
doomed thing, with all its cargo of human life, if left 
to itself for re-enforcements it does not possess. It 
may be run into and demolished soon by a steamer 
fully equipped like John Strand was run down by the 
engine, or not meeting such fate drift hopelessly until 
it is at last swallowed by the great ocean, like Tobe 
went down while all he had possessed was gathered in 
to swell the possessions of Hiram Blank. 

Ike could not remain with such reflections long; 
they would drive him mad. He arose and prepared to 
go through the routine of another day. 

There was nothing upon the breakfast table tempt- 
ing enough to induce him to eat; he sat ill at ease, 
talking to his father and sipping a cup of coffee Draque 
called delicious, but which was plainly disagreeable 
to him. 

He left the house and ambled down the street to his 
office, his gait sufficient to say to a close observer 
“much, if not all, of the original Ike has been taken 
out of that man.” Ike felt it himself, and asked “by 
what?” and the answer came to him like a blast of the 
simoon. 

“Public opinion says by my own fault, and public 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 261 

Opinion may be right; but I have not the power to 
decide. ’ ’ 

Upon entering his office and taking his accustomed 
place he saw nothing to be done, definitely and clearly, 
as he once saw. The chair opposite him assumed 
twice its size and appeared unsteady on its feet; it 
sometimes went so far that if it had a head on it he 
would be willing to swear it was a man ready to deal 
him a deathblow. The walls closed in upon him, and 
expanded capriciously ; without resolution he surveyed 
all, and in desperation took his hat, and went out. 
He had not far to go to find the brace that had become 
to him a necessity, and that, while giving momentary 
motive power, treacherously slips another brick of 
solid foundation from under the feet, making every 
good himself or friends might hope for still more 
remote. 

After the brace he worried through a part of the 
day at what the world calls attending to business, all 
the time fighting with the desperation of a hero with 
an invisible enemy, indescribable even to himself. 
The shades of night fell on no sadder spectacle than 
grief-stricken Meg when she learned that Jacob Klomp 
had arrived alone, and knew, without being told, the 
cause that prevented Ike. The prowling, destructive 
old coon in her father’s cornfield shrieked in her ears. 
She and Ike had many a time sat in the shadow of her 
father’s house and listened when the sound was far 
from unpleasant. But now all nature, animate and 
inanimate, seemed to unite in making her a most mis- 
erable creature. She let fall the bunch of ripe grapes 
she had just gathered, and went into the house to 
seek a quiet place where she could think undisturbed, 
and where mutely she sat until an hour later, when 
Jabez came “poking” around, as Peggy was prone to 


262 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE, 


call his wanderings, with lamp in hand. He startled 
her, saying: 

“I thought it was a ghost I heard up here, Meg, 
that kept that old rocker creaking a little. You’d 
better come down out of the cold, and spend what’s 
left of the evening around the fire with the rest of us. ’ ’ 


CHAPTER XXIV. 


Jacob Klomp learned upon his first meeting with 
Jabez that the old man and the young man may have 
ideas akin. The fact of Jabez having trudged the 
earth some five and twenty years before Jacob was 
born did not prevent the two men meeting at this 
period upon the same plane. Jacob’s good old father, 
whose thoughts had been centered upon Jacob’s edu- 
cation, even when he hoed and piled away the 
corn, was not as near the right in that son’s estimation 
as Jabez, who bowed his head in assent when Jacob 
said: 

“You nor I nor nobody can do good with any hope 
for permanence while the liquor traffic is the thing it 
is.’’ 

Jacob had breakfasted with his parents and talked 
for an hour or more about little things that did not 
come to them the night before, after which he left the 
house to look around. He walked slowly, and looked 
attentively in this and that direction. He stopped to 
pick and spread on his hand a single golden-rod, and 
looked at the clusters that lined the fence corners for 
a rod or more. He watched the lone grass snake, the 
last of the season, in haste and fright glide out of 
sight, and listened to the water in the creek as it 
journeyed on, singing over the mossy stones the self- 
same song it sang for him twenty years before, and 
finally reached Jabez ’s house in time to sit down with 
them to dinner. 

“We don’t stand on ceremony here,” said Jabez, 
263 


264 ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 

his face a perfect picture of hospitality. “The invita- 
tion is just out. ” 

Jacob knew how true it was, for he had heard 
Peggy’s voice coming from some unseen spot laden 
with the invitation Jabez had the honor of extending, 
and which was accepted. As Peggy presented herself, 
Jabez said: 

“It’s been many a day since we’ve had the honor 
of having the son of our next neighbor dine with us. ’ ’ 

“That’s true,” replied Peggy, “and it makes the 
occasion all the more delightful. ’ ’ 

Some of the neighbors had said: “Jabez could meas- 
ure a man in fifteen minutes as well as many another 
man could in that many hours.” His countenance 
showed the measuring of the man before him was 
quite satisfactory. In his most pleasant way he said : 

“You must like to poke around the fields as well as 
Ike. I’ve noticed you’ve been coming this way all 
morning. ’ ’ 

“I think Ike is no exception. All country boys are 
lovers of nature. The fields and flowers and creek 
have been trying to get ahead of each other telling 
me stories of what passed since I played among them. ’ ’ 

“And wonderful stories they can tell to any one 
that feels like stopping to listen,” said Jabez. 

“I do not see how any one familiar with the place 
for any length of time could tear himself away from 
the stories — many of them are so much a part of our 
own history, ’ ’ said J acob. 

“That’s a fact,” answered Jabez, “and for the ma- 
jority those histories are oftener sad than otherwise. ’ ’ 

“Progress is the word,” said Jacob, “and a man 
must be satisfied with the tales the few remaining 
trees and landmarks tell him, along with the void that 
must necessarily be in his heart when thinking of 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


265 


friends that have been swept away as well as land- 
marks. Although the thick forests and silent dells 
were holier places to me, I bow to the decree that has 
swept them so nearly away. ” He looked directly at 
Jabez and said: “It is hard to realize that a little 
more than half a century ago there was not room for 
a log cabin anywhere about here until a dozen trees or 
more were chopped down and taken out of the way. ’ ’ 

“Not only here,” retorted Jabez, “but many a mile 
around the condition of things was about the same. 
I remember well when that great city of yours hadn’t 
above two dozen houses in it, and them not much to 
look at. ’ ’ 

Jacob sat for a few seconds quietly contemplating 
the picture Jabez placed before him, and contrasting 
the few houses not much to look at with some of the 
handsome ones under his eye. The contrast was cer- 
tainly pleasing, and it is quite probable one contrast 
placed before his mind another, though the second 
was unpleasant. He looked up quickly and said : 

“Father tells me Tobe’s life had a sad ending.” 

“It’s true,” answered Jabez; “but the saddest part 
is the future of the county pauper. ’ ’ 

“I passed the poor farm on my way down, and had 
I known Mrs. Lenk was there I would have stopped 
to see her,” said Jacob. 

“You didn’t come in on the train then?” asked Jabez. 

“Only part of the way,” said Jacob. “I thought I 
would enjoy a ride over the old road and a friend 
drove me that way. ’ ’ 

“It’s been a long time since I was over that road; 
how does it look?” asked Jabez. 

“It is completely changed, and some say the condi- 
tion is improved, but the grandeur you were familiar 
with is forever lost,” said Jacob, 


266 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


The county poor farm, where Mrs. Tobias Lenk 
found shelter, occupied a not unpleasant situation in 
the midst of thrift and destitution, although destitu- 
tion in farming precincts has never just the same 
meaning it has in large towns and cities. The farmer 
is reduced until all is gone, always being the equal of 
more fortunate neighbors, and when the last plank is 
taken from under him he is simply transplanted from 
friendship’s garden to the barren desert of food and 
raiment. But the city poor man on his road to the 
pauper home has no friends. He is an individual 
people with means and the much-boasted education, 
to all appearance, look upon as one not going the 
same road, with the same end in view, never thinking 
that at the end of the road it is possible the pauper 
may find rest in Abraham’s bosom, as in the parable. 
The east line of the farm extended some distance along 
the road Ike and his stage-coach companion traveled 
when Ike was so penetrated by the presence and words 
of the uncommon man before him that he stepped out 
of the coach a greater person than the Ike who en- 
tered it. For, whatever is force sufficient to arouse 
man to strive for greater things in the realm of truth 
and justice and love, where God is king, than he ever 
before thought of, leaves him greater than it found 
him. 

It does not matter much whether he catch such in- 
spiration from the spirit still in the flesh or through 
the medium of those characters called letters, which 
handled dexterously embody such power. But pity 
was a word Ike never cared to hear when linked with 
himself. In his heart he loved the word, but it must 
invariably be for others, and in no way associated 
with self. He never claimed to not be a suitable sub- 
ject, and probably the consciousness that such was a 


ISAAC DRAOUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


267 


fact he felt too proud to acknowledge made the de- 
spised word seem venomous when spoken ever so softly 
by a friend. It invariably brought the glow of indig- 
nation to his cheek, that flashed for a moment and 
left an ashen hue the more pitiable to behold. 

Jabez knew well Ike would not listen to pity, and 
how to get about telling Jacob to not undertake the 
battle with such armor was somewhat perplexing. 
There was no telling how lengthy a dialogue it would 
take to say what might be said in a few words. He 
said, more as if asking a question than repeating some- 
thing he already knew : 

“You didn’t get to see Ike when you were in town?” 

“No,” replied Jacob, “but I think I will make it a 
point to see him on my return. ’ ’ 

“Do,” said Peggy. “Both he and Meg will be glad 
to have you stop a while with them. Meg left us 
only a few hours ago. I’m sorry she’s not here. ” 

It was still plain Jabez had a difficult task. He 
helped his guest to a dish beside him, looked at Peggy 
as if he would like to be prompted, and laughed as he 
said: 

“I’ve stayed at home pretty close of late and have 
had no opposition from Peggy, and you know without 
a little opposition things become monotonous. When 
one can push their views no farther ahead than the 
other, you see how a thing is bound to come to a 
standstill. ’ ’ 

“Then you expect to find in me an opponent?” asked 
Jacob. 

“I’m not looking for an opponent,” said Jabez, with 
a shake of his head, “but I’ll expect you to push what 
we wish so much farther ahead than Peggy and myself 
are able that it ’ill be a pleasure to follow you.” 

“Is that how affairs stand?” asked Jacob, looking up 


268 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


astonished. He continued: “I would be sorry to dis- 
appoint you, but I depend upon the sense of you old 
settlers as much, if not more, than you depend upon 
education ; so that, if you think you are not able to hit 
the mark, in attempting it, I am inclined to tremble. ’ ’ 
“I’ll not go far from the mark,’’ answered Jabez, 
as he laughed aloud, “but the trouble is I’m not able 
to hit hard enough to do any good.’’ Here he looked 
at Peggy and said: “I don’t know what’s the matter, 
Peggy, but I’m longer getting at the point than it 
usually takes me. ’ ’ 

Peggy made no reply, but bowed her head. Then 
Jabez went on addressing himself to Jacob. 

“As you know, Ike’s been in the habit of taking a 
drink all along, I believe, since he was a boy, but of 
late he is carried completely away by times, and the 
future of his family is the source of constant worry to 
Peggy and myself, fearing he might wind up like 
Tobe. Some time ago I promised Peggy I’d ask you 
to talk to him, for she’s hopeful you might be able to 
persuade him when another couldn’t.” 

“Pardon me,” said Jacob, “I believe it is something 
persuasion has nothing to do with. It would have 
been a far easier task to persuade each individual slave- 
holder to liberate his slaves, which would have been a 
method less acute reasoners than Ike would be able to 
see the fallacy of at once. ’ ’ 

“We believe that,” said the hopeful Peggy, “but still 
while you couldn’t hope to persuade them as a class, 
you might meet with one or two that would be so alive 
to justice that they would liberate those they held in 
bondage at the instigation of another. ’ ’ 

“You are right,” replied Jacob, “such exceptions 
might have been possible. ’ ’ 

“That admission will give you room to hope, won’t 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 269 

it, Peggy,” asked Jabez, who, for her sake, appeared 
more hopeful in this case than he really was. He then 
turned to Jacob and said: 

“Your idea is Prohibit, I know, and you and I are 
one on that point. ’ ’ 

“Yes,” said Jacob, at the same time taking in the 
whole world at a glance. ‘‘For me, Prohibit has the 
same sacred meaning Abolish had for Ike. It stands 
pre-eminently alone. ’ ' 

‘‘You’ll have to be very cautious about being sorry 
for Ike or his family,” said Jabez; ‘‘it seems to be 
about the only thing that ruffles his temper. ’ ’ 

‘‘That and Ruth’s persistent dislike for him, ” said 
Peggy. 

‘‘Too much talk about what Ike sa3^s doesn’t concern 
other people doesn’t take well with him,” said Jabez. 
‘‘His own have tried so hard to persuade that he ap- 
pears to not care about hearing anything on the sub- 
ject. At all events, you’re not likely to arouse the 
same enthusiasm we’ve been long accustomed to when 
other subjects were touched upon. But don’t be dis- 
couraged with a bluff. ’ ’ 

‘‘What might be thought impudence in another man 
Ike will not consider such in me, I think, if I am able 
to show him any similarity between his mission and 
mine,” replied Jacob. 

‘‘You’re going back soon, are you?” asked Peggy, 
interest in Ike permeating her whole frame even to 
her finger tips. 

‘‘Not so soon,” replied Jacob slowly. ‘‘I expect to 
stay much longer than I first intended. I have sev- 
eral reasons for so doing that appeared to me since I 
came. The first is I will hardly ever have another 
opportunity of spending any length of time in the old 
home with my parents. The voices I heard told me 


270 ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 

SO as I walked across the fields this morning. Of 
course, I knew it all along in a vague sort of a way, 
but the voices I heard made me feel it. Besides, my 
parents are anxious I should stay, which anxiety I 
never felt more inclined to indulge. It will be a bene- 
fit to my health as well, although I do not feel any of 
the infirmities of age. And it will give me a chance 
to listen in lonely haunts to voices that came to my 
soul from afar, when I was but a boy, and that I always 
loved to hear, for the same are there still, and I should 
be better able to appreciate. ’ ’ 

Peggy did not show her disappointment, but disap- 
pointed she was, for hours seemed days, and days 
weeks, when nothing was being done to save Ike. 
Now that her only hope rested in the superior persua- 
sive power of Jacob Klomp, she did not care to see 
that hope delayed a moment. 

She arose, and was followed to the family sitting 
room by J abez and their guest, who, as he looked out 
the window over old scenes, was more inclined to think 
than talk. Neither host nor hostess disturbed his 
reverie, but seated themselves to think. They were 
filled with thoughts as puzzling as ever they labored to 
clear away, when in younger days they planned and 
worked and hoped by being industrious and frugal to 
be able to realize in their old age the peace that comes 
with plenty without a care. Jacob’s thoughts must 
have wandered from the fields, dear as he loved them, 
and become absorbed in something else. He turned 
abruptly from the window, saying as he crossed the 
room: “You said something about Ruth disliking Ike. 
How does that come. ’ ’ 

“Oh, it’s a trait peculiar to the Draques,” said 
Jabez smiling. “From old to young there.’s a spirit of 
determination in them ; they see for themselves the 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


271 


way they are going, and to head them off requires a 
good deal of strategy. ’ ’ 

“But with all that Draque bowed to the teetotaler, ” 
said Peggy. 

“He did,” answered Jabez, “and turned his back 
on old chums that another man might find hard to 
part with, although we were never able to make a Re- 
publican out of him. ’ ’ 

“It is certain,” said Jacob, “the Republican has 
done his work, and we are thankful he was able to do 
it. It is such men as Draque the country is looking 
forward to now. The Prohibitionist will be a greater 
emancipator than the Republican. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ Draque is as far from a Prohibitionist as he is from 
a Republican,” said Jabez. “Although he has no 
notion of robbing himself or coming to any bad end, 
he thinks it’s all right other men should be allowed to 
do as they please that way. ’ ’ 

“Still, his example is better than his neighbors,” 
replied Jacob. 

“You hardly answered Jacob’s question about 
Ruth,” said Peggy. 

“I didn’t,” answered Jabez, “but he’s a pretty 
clever fellow that sticks to the point always, isn’t he, 
Jacob?” 

“He certainly is, ” said Jacob, “and such men are 
few, as well as clever. ’ ’ 

“I never met a man that kept the one thing before 
him like Tobe did, when he was laboring to convince the 
people about here that slavery was wrong, ” said Jabez. 

“What’s coming over you, Jabez,” asked Peggy. 
“I think I’ll have to answer the question that was 
asked of you. ’ ’ 

Jabez looked at her and answered with the single 
word, “Do.” Peggy turned to Jacob saying: 


2 72 ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 

“It’s Strange, but Ruth has a dislike for Ike he’s 
not able to induce her to overcome. He hasn’t been 
able to do her a kindness, for she’ll not accept it, and 
while she’s all smiles and pleasant words for others 
she’s nothing but snarls for him. ’’ 

“That is strange,’’ said Jacob, “but what did Ike do 
to incur her ladyship’s displeasure.” 

“All the reason we’ve been able to find for it is he 
wore a uniform with brass buttons and carried a gun 
that killed people,” said Jabez. 

‘ ‘ Ruth was too young to know much about the war, 
was she not?” asked Jacob. 

“She wasn’t too young to know that hearts were 
broken at home, and tears were shed every day for 
them * that went to come back no more, for her little 
intellect first began to grow witnessing such,” said 
Jabez. 

“Yes,” said Peggy, “and Ike stepped in on her so 
abruptly with his uniform and all that she’s never got- 
ten over it, at least that’s what we think.” 

“It may have shocked her,” replied Jacob. 

“It was enough to shock a child; yes, enough,” an- 
swered Jabez, in an extremely serious way, at the 
same time slowly shaking his head. 


CHAPTER XXV. 

While matters were being thus discussed at the farm 
Ike was holding high carnival at home over crushed 
expectations. The extra depression being caused by 
his inability to introduce Jacob Klomp upon the night 
already mentioned, combined with the consequent feel- 
ing of his real inability to do anything. The latter 
posed so persistently and constantly before him that 
to drive away the phantom he deliberately, and with 
the same freedom his free fellow man possessed, as 
the average observer would surmise, continued to 
drink with greater recklessness than upon the ill- 
starred day. 

He had arisen from one of his stupid sleeps more 
wild than ever for the stimulant that quiets and lulls 
— that deadens all woe. He dragged himself more 
dead than alive down the stairs, where all he coveted 
was bottled in the closet of the once cheerful sitting 
room. He made two or three unavailing attempts 
upon the door, which at last opened, and with shaking 
frame and more unsteady hand took from the shelf a 
bottle and dropped into a chair. 

The bottle was tightly corked, and his attempts to 
uncork were for some time unsuccessful. 

At last, with a desperate jerk the cork came, and 
his elbow hit the window back of him with such force 
that the sound was heard through a good part of the 
house. The noise inside attracted the attention of 
Ruth, who was playing and taking in the beauties of 
the landscape from a commanding position on the 
porch. She put her curly head inside to see what had 


18 


273 


274 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


happened. Ike had let fall the cork and screw, and 
was feeling too comfortable to relinquish his position. 
He called to her and said : 

‘ ‘ Ruth, pick up the cork. ’ ’ 

She looked at him and the cork, and with a toss of 
her head said : 

“I won’t.” 

“You do things about as you please around here I 
know,” stammered Ike, “but I’ll see that you do as I 
tell you hereafter. ’ ’ 

Ruth stood looking at him fearless and defiant, 
never offering to obey, and certainly having no such 
intention. Ike, after another gulp at the bottle, said : 

“Now, Miss Saucebox, I’d like to know if you are 
going to conduct yourself more like a little lady. 
Come and pick up that cork for me. ’ ’ 

She elevated her chin to an angle that meant a great 
deal, but said not a word as she stepped back to her 
bench on the porch regardless of what was expected 
of her, and shook up grandfather’s leaves. 

This so enraged Ike that he arose, and with energy 
he could not command a moment before rushed to the 
porch. 

Ruth stood her ground, not caring for Ike and fear- 
ing no harm, for she knew nothing but gentleness of 
treatment. Innocent little thing, she looked at him 
with an air Ike, in his frenzy, interpreted; “I dare 
you to touch me. ’ ’ 

He picked her up and struck her right and left and, 
not looking where, gave her a toss that sent her over 
the rail of the porch and walked back saying: 

‘ ‘ I think you will do as I tell you next time. ’ ’ 

Her screams brought grandfather Draque to her as- 
sistance ; he picked her up, fondled her and patted her 
head. He carried her into the house to her mother, 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


275 


whose eyes had been swollen for days, and who ap- 
peared to have not another tear to shed. She took 
Ruth in her arms, and seating herself in a rocker, 
rocked back and forth to quiet the child, and sooth- 
ingly said : 

“You will soon be better, Ruth, and then you must 
keep out of papa’3 way, ’ ’ which was the first reminder 
poor Ruth had gotten that it was unsafe to be near 
him. 

Ruth cried herself asleep, and weary Meg laid her 
down. Draque was the most downcast man in the 
great city that night ; between watching Ike and Ruth, 
who was very restless, he hardly closed an eye. 

Long before daybreak Ike was on the alert, looking 
for the stuff that for a few hours more would drown 
sorrow — do away with all ideas of responsibility and 
render senseless the Godlike faculties that make man 
so superior to all created animals. 

Draque followed the handsome, talented and elo- 
quent Ike, who was once not only his pride, but the 
pride of the Republican party, begging him to try and 
suffer the dreadful something no one but a brother 
sufferer can picture, and that no one has ever been 
able to satisfactorily describe and throw the glass 
aside. 

Ike’s respect for his father was never obliterated, 
and after long entreaties and gradual tapering off or, 
as Jacob Klomp would strongly assert, after the par- 
oxj'sm had run its course, Ike was restored to his 
senses, forlorn and broken hearted as usual. 

Draque was often heard say, speaking more to him- 
self than another : 

“Whether the fault is yours or mine, Ike, it’s hard 
to tell. ’ ’ 

About a day or so after Jacob’s visit, Peggy began 


276 ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 

to feel uneasy concerning his lengthy stay at home, 
and how long it might be before he would call upon 
Ike. She resolved to bring Meg right back provided 
she could persuade Ike to accompany her, feeling it 
would be a more speedy way of bringing him and 
Jacob together. She said to Jabez when talking over 
the matter : 

“The quietness of the place gives one a chance to 
think, Ike might find a wish in his heart to return to 
the dear old life when solicited amid scenes that 
brought back so many recollections of the happy past. ” 

Consequently the invitation went its way that very 
day. Ike was now drinking sparingly and was very 
sick. He thought a run to the country would do him 
good, and accepted the invitation. But Meg was un- 
able to go. Ruth was exceedingly irritable and cried 
a great deal. 

After Ike left for the country Draque and Meg con- 
sulted, and decided to call a doctor. Just what was 
wrong with Ruth neither her mother nor grandfather 
learned from the doctor that day. That there was 
something the matter with her back, which made it 
necessary for him to call again and again, was the one 
thing of which they were certain, and also that the 
trouble bid fair to claim her as an invalid for weeks to 
come. She had never been a sufferer, and the new- 
ness of sleepless, suffering nights made it extremely 
hard for uncultivated patience. 

Draque had a way about him of making another feel 
what he felt himself, and since Amanda died he never 
failed to do his best to lead the suffering one to God, 
where he found his peace in the promise of a better 
land where Amanda was sure to be. 

When the pain came hard Ruth listened to grand- 
father Draque tell of the thorns that crowned the 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 277 

Savior, and the nails that held him to the Cross, and 
the tears that came to her brown eyes were half in 
sympathy for Jesus’ suffering. 

Ike was ill at ease during his journey, and upon ar- 
riving at the little station near the farm he proceeded 
at once to get a conveyance to take him to his destina- 
tion. Today there was neither romance nor poetry in 
companions, drive or scenery. Ike knew he was mis- 
erable, too miserable to care to know anything more. 
The commanding, proud bearing Ike of former years 
crouched slovenly against the side of the carriage and 
hung his heavy head. No pulsation of his sluggish 
heart was able to send the blood current through the 
arteries and veins as it should flow. The driver drew 
in the horses at Jabez’s gate. The suddenness of the 
stop shocked and aroused Ike ; he looked around in an 
uncertain way, and then understood he was at the end 
of his journey. He opened wide as he could his blood 
shot eyes and alighted. Peggy said to Jabez: 

“It will never do to let Jacob Klomp know Ike’s 
here till he feels better.” 

“You’re right,” answered Jabez, looking very de- 
murely. “It ’ill do no good; he’ll be in better trim 
after twenty-four hours or so, and whether he sees 
Jacob or not he’s better here than at home under the 
circumstances. ’ ’ 

Whether Jacob Klomp lounged under the trees in 
his father’s orchard or watched the sun set from the 
back porch, while the ever shifting, piling clouds 
changed into varied forms and figures, where were the 
fiery red with doleful dark borders, and higher, paler 
clouds, until near the zenith they melted into the 
* softest tints of pink and white, he was always the 
same quiet, soulful observer. A man fully convinced 
that man is a worker in God’s design, certain that 


278 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


God’s creation is still going on, and that he a part of 
animate creation was made to carry out some of that 
design, however small. He felt himself the possessor 
of superior intelligence. Such faculties as he pos- 
sessed he knew many another man to be equally en- 
dowed with by nature, yet circumstances favored him 
in a way that tended to bring out the best that was in 
him ; therefore why should not more be expected of 
him. 

He sat in such reflective mood, with chair titled 
back, and both feet on tlie rail that surrounded the 
porch looking at the small part yet to be seen of the 
orb that gives day to the earth, his heart glorifying 
the great Creator, when his sublime meditation was 
disturbed by his father’s footstep on the porch, and a 
voice near his side saying: 

“Jake, I believe Ike Draque is over at Jabez’s. ” 

“Is he,” was the quick response. 

“I’m thinking he is, although it’s not like him to 
stay shut up this long when he comes,’’ replied Klomp. 

“He is probably tired and enjoys solitude well 
enough to keep out of sight for a while. I would not 
like to break his reverie if it was anything like as de- 
lightful as mine was a while ago, ’ ’ said J acob. 

“I suppose that’s a hint for me to get out of the 
way, ’ ’ said his father, stepping back. 

“It is nothing of the kind,” answered Jacob, “but I 
thought you might have an intention of asking me to 
help you disturb Ike, and if you had no urgent reason 
why I should accept I would feel like declining.” 

“I don’t know whether he’s there or not,” said 
Klomp, in an altered tone. 

“You must have some reason for thinking he is 
there, father,” said Jacob, looking up. 

“We-11,” answered Klomp, then stopped until the 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


279 


sound of the prolonged well died out. ‘ ‘ I saw a car- 
riage stop there early in the day, and I haven’t seen 
J abez about the place today, although he left what he 
was at yesterday unfinished, and I thought that would 
carry me out in thinking he’d some one there, and who 
would it be but Ike. ” 

Klomp took some time to think the matter over and 
continued: “We’ll have them all over here if he is. 
It seems we’re always going to Jabez’s house, and 
they are never coming here. ’ ’ 

“Just as you say, father,’’ quietly replied Jacob. 

A mosquito took it upon himself to chase Jacob from 
the porch. The latter fought nobly for a while, slap- 
ping right and left, with one hand and the other — now 
aiming a blow at his nose, and again leveling a good 
one on his cheek, but the determined little mosquito 
was victorious, and Jacob ingloriously fled. And so it 
always is, you determined little thing; you can send 
on a stampede a creature a hundred thousand times 
your size, and without knowing what you did, sing on. 

Just so: a little man in an obscure corner of the 
globe, with sufficient determination, can make a great 
stir for the better among his fellow men if he only 
will, and the extent over which his power may be felt 
far surpasseth in proportion the difference between 
man and his little assailant. 

You have been chased from the porch by a mosquito, 
Jacob, but you are the prime mover of a force that is 
going to banish alcohol from the festive board through- 
out this broad country that will turn the source of 
revenue into another channel, and place the long mis- 
used drug in its proper place. That place being the 
druggist’s shelf, from which it must be served in small 
quantities, only by prescription, and where its twin 
brother opium, with its horde of near relatives that 


28 o 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


mean death when handled without thorough knowl- 
edge of their nature, are placed, and where they surely 
belong. Klomp stepped into the room where Jacob 
sat in darkness and said : 

“Those blamed mosquitoes take all the comfort out 
of the evenings here for a man, don’t they Jake?” 

“They do, ” said Jacob laughing, “and take some of 
the determination out of him, too. I had intended to 
watch the shifting clouds while there was one to be 
seen, but a single mosquito more venturesome than 
the score of others I heard singing compelled me to 
turn my back upon the scene. ’ ’ 

“Your mother doesn’t care about much light in the 
house, it brings them in so bad,” said Klomp, “but I’ll 
turn it on a bit for you. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ Don ’ t do it, ” responded J acob. ‘ ‘ I have been inside 
long enough to accustom my eyes to the place. I do 
not care to see anything in particular. I’m thinking; 
I can see the moon from where I sit ; it is climbing 
fast, and is an incentive to carry one’s thoughts with 
it up and up. ” 

Klomp left the lamp untouched; he opened and 
banged doors in search of something he evidently did 
not often look for, which he knew was some place, 
and yet was not certain where that place might be. 
He left the room, and Jacob heard the same bang and 
slap in the next room, when he called to his father 
and asked: 

“Have you lost something?” 

“I haven’t just lost it Jake,” came the reply, “but 
still I can’t find it. ” 

Jacob picked up the little lamp and turned the light 
on full, at the same going to help his father. 

“Your late,” shouted Klomp, as he saw the light 
coming, and with satisfaction in every feature of his 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


281 


honest face, upon being able to treat Jake so hand- 
somely, he held a bottle of fine old stuff in his hand, 
and said to Jacob, who still stood in the doorway: 

“Come in and we’ll have some.” 

“Why, father,” said Jacob, “I thought you knew I 
looked upon it as poison. While I don’t like to refuse 
any kind offer of yours, I cannot firing myself to take 
the dose even at your hands. ” 

“Then I’ll not offer it,” said Klomp, putting the 
bottle down untouched, “but I didn’t know you’d 
gone as far as that, Jake.” 

‘ ‘ I have gone so far that I am sure, as a poison, it 
has no equal, and consequently should not be used ac- 
cording to individual discretion,” replied Jacob. 

“If the doctor said you ^might take a dram it would 
be all right, wouldn’t it, Jake,” asked Klomp with a 
mischievous twitch in the corner of his mouth. 

“If a conscientious doctor prescribed a little, much 
after the manner he would prescribe opium, it would,” 
replied the serious Jacob. 

Jacob took his place by the window, and looked at 
the moon. Klomp found a soft place for the bottle in 
a drawer with the table linen, and said, as he closed 
the drawer: 

‘ ‘ The next time I look for it I may have to hunt 
longer than this time; I’ve put it away so secure.” 

Jacob could not help smiling at his father’s remark, 
which pleased Klomp, who laughed heartily and said : 

“We’re a strange quartette, Jake.” 

“I am not sure I know what you mean, father,” 
said Jacob. 

“Well,” said Klomp, still laughing, “I have in my 
mind Draque and myself, and you and Ike. You 
ought to be Draque ’s son and Ike mine.” 


282 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


“Do you really think you would like the quartette 
better if we were thus placed,” asked Jacob. 

“Indeed I’d not,” promptly answered Klomp, “al- 
though I’ve seen the time when Isaac Draque was 
second to no man in the country. ’ ’ 

“And this change may be laid entirely at the door 
of the poison you would have me take a while ago, ’ ’ 
said Jacob. 

“Whatever I do for myself in the future,” replied 
Klomp, “I’ll never go to the trouble of hiding away 
for you a bottle of the very best I could lay my hands 
on, you may depend on that. ’ 


CHAPTER XXVL 


The next day there was quite a stir in Klomp’s 
kitchen. Before the sun had well risen, Klomp went 
to the far field, to let the sheep in on a pasture the 
cows had eaten pretty bare, but still afforded enough 
for sheep to grow the best wool in the state. Jabez 
was looking about at things, too, but, like Klomp, not 
in for a day’s work, as Klomp saw at a glance as he 
ran his eye over the Sunday suit. 

“You don’t look as if you’d do the potato bug much 
harm today, Jabez,” said Klomp. 

“It’s rather late to try to do him any harm,” replied 
Jabez, “for all the harm he could do us he’s done. 
It’s only a crazy man that talks potato bug in husking 
time. ’ ’ 

“I know it,” said Klomp, laughing, “but it was the 
first thing that came to my head, and I let you have 
it, for I see you’re in your good suit as well as myself. ” 

“I am,” answered Jabez. “Ike came up yesterday, 
and I thought I could afford to drop farming for a few 
days, and entertain him. ’ ’ 

“I said to Jake last night I thought he was here,” 
said Klomp, slapping his hands, “and more than that 
I said I’d have you all at the house if he was. I don’t 
know how it happens that you haven’t been over much 
lately, but we’ll look for you this evening — you and 
Peggy and Ike. ” 

“Very well,” said Jabez, “I don’t see any reason 
why we can’t go. As long as we’re in our Sunday 
clothes we might as well be at a neighbor’s house as 
our own. ’ ’ 


283 


284 ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 

“That’s a fact,” said Klomp, “though I never looked 
at it that way till now. ’ ’ 

The two men were never hurriedly separated when 
they happened to come across each other in the fields. 
They generally had very important items to exchange 
concerning farm management and home affairs, but 
did not restrict themselves exclusively to those sub- 
jects. Such gossipy news, as that Napoleon III. was a 
prisoner, and the foundation of the French empire in 
all probability upset, was talked over with as much 
enthusiasm and sound sense, as Gotham’s highly 
favored sons of fortune could in their best moments 
command. They had no desire to control the money 
market, but when any question of vital importance was 
placed before them, political or otherwise, they came 
to the front with as much hard sense as is usually par- 
celed in two individual men. But the exchanging of 
ideas at such length, regardless of the time it took, 
was what raised the racket in Klomp ’s kitchen. The 
men had been engaged in a hand-to-hand debate con- 
cerning the plausibility and possibility of killing the 
liquor traffic, at least in their own state. Both men 
were thoroughly aroused, and were also men of leisure, 
for at least that day. They took no note of time, and 
until the sun was near the meridian they argued pro 
and con. Jabez’s platform was: 

“It cannot be brought about by temperance exhor- 
tations and state laws. We must elect a prohibition 
president. ’ ’ 

Klomp suddenly broke down in the debate, and 
asked, “Did you have your breakfast, Jabez?” 

“No,” answered Jabez, looking around for his 
shadow. 

Klomp shook his head and said, “It’s not to be seen. 


ISAAC nRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 2S5 

and we’d better make tracks, or we’ll lose our dinner 
as well.” 

“When old men like we are, Klomp, forget to go in 
to our meals, there’s something bound to happen,” 
answered Jabez. 

At all events, it shows some of us are as much 
interested as ever we were about things that may or 
may not happen, ’ ’ said Klomp, as he turned his steps 
toward the house. 

Before sitting down to dinner, Klomp informed those 
in the cooking department they might expect company 
that evening, and, for all he knew, they might stay 
for tea, and ended with the injunction, “It was best to 
be prepared. ’ ’ 

“Why, Ezekial, ” said Mrs. Klomp, “if you’d only 
been in a couple of hours sooner I might have gotten 
a good meal. ” 

“Those that are coming will find no fault with the 
meal, ” replied Klomp. ‘ ‘ It’s Peggy and J abez and Ike. ” 

“Ike!” ejaculated Mrs. Klomp. “Indeed, I don’t 
know of anybody you could bring in I’d put myself 
more about for. ” 

“Don’t worry,” said Klomp, “he’ll take just what 
you have to offer Jabez and Peggy.” 

“I know that very well,” replied Mrs. Klomp, “but 
for all that you might have given me notice he was 
coming. I hate to be taken so on the short when I’m 
to get a meal for folks from the city.” 

“I don’t see how it can be helped now,” said Klomp, 
very demurely, “but I’ll promise you if he don’t con- 
duct himself as well as Jake at the table. I’ll fire him.” 

“I’m not at all in the humor for fun,” said Mrs. 
Klomp. “It’s not that I wouldn’t like to have him 
here for tea, but you should let me know as soon as 
you heard he was coming. ” 


286 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


“I know it’s me you’re mad at,” was Klomp’s cool 
and provoking reply. 

Jacob was placed in a dilemma, he hardly knew 
whether to smile or look grave. As all emotions of the 
human heart necessarily exhibit themselves, wheth- 
er the observer is acute enough to notice the exhibition 
or not, his face assumed a peculiar expression which 
his father did not quite understand, and, thinking he 
might be anxious to settle the difficulty, asked 

“Do you see any way out of it, Jake?” 

“I really see no better way than the one you have 
suggested,” replied Jacob. 

“That’s it,” said Klomp, looking at Mrs. Klomp. 
“He gets enough to eat at home — it’s not altogether 
for the meal we’re bringing him here, but for a good 
sociable time, being Jake’s at home.” 

Mrs. Klomp was now more willing to view the com- 
ing event philosophically, and, in the best humor, 
served dinner. That evening, when all had come 
together around Klomp’s hearth, Ike was at his best — 
at the very outside limit of what best would ever mean 
for him again. But he was crippled — ^just as a man 
with hand or foot cut off is a cripple. He was sick, 
just as a man with disease lurking in his vitals is sick. 
The fat accumulating about the heart of the phlegmatic 
good feeder, that will choke him off some bright day 
when all the world seems fair, can with less difficulty 
be torn away from that great pump, that once stopped 
is stilled forever, than can you be restored to your 
pristine health, your unintentional destroyer of self. 
Sadder than all others is your case. You are a sufferer 
without sympathy. All the little testimonials of kind- 
ness humanity bestows upon their fellowman in 
suffering, and distress is denied you. If in one of 
those paroxysms you overstep the bounds of propri- 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 287 

ety, and violate the law, that at such times you know 
nothing about, you are a criminal, doomed to penal 
servitude, or the halter, and you are not blind to the 
fact. You realize more fully that you are in bondage 
than the black man realized he was a slave, and you 
know as well, too, that some force outside the indi- 
vidual enslaved must break that bondage. 

The meeting between the two who were playmates 
in boyhood was very cordial. In conversation, they 
drifted at length from one topic to another, until 
finally prohibition was their theme ; but it was too 
one-sided to take. Ike was as innocent of any intent 
upon him being planned by Jabez and Peggy, as Jacob 
was anxious to avoid any remark that would tend to 
lead to a suspicion of such intention. Therefore, trivial 
things clothed with enchanting memories were valued 
above par. Sheep-washing, that came as regularly 
once a year as Christmas came, brought back recollec- 
tions of boyish fun so vividly that dignity was thrown 
to the wind by both lawyer and professor, at Ike’s 
recital of how the old sheep butted Jake into the river. 

“You wouldn’t think, when he got on his feet, that 
day, making wry faces, ” said Klomp, who was hardly 
able to straighten his face long enough to articulate a 
word, “that he’d ever be able to take care of himself 
as well as he does today, would you Ike?” 

“You put him on his feet pretty squarely, Klomp,” 
said Jabez, who laughed with the rest, and was still 
laughing. “We’ll have to give you credit for that, 
though it isn’t every man that stands as well after he 
gets there. I doubt if he’d stand as square if you 
kept him by your side. ” 

“Oh, I know,” said Klomp; “you’re afraid of the 
bottle he was too far from home to get. The dip the 
old sheep gave him made a cold-water man out of 


2S8 ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 

him, and I think that’s something you’ll be pleased 
to know.” 

“I’ve known it for some time,” replied Jabez, “and, 
as you say, it’s been a pleasure to know it. ” 

The thrust, though aimless, hit a mark. Ike sat in 
silence, and bit his lip; all of which Jacob saw, though 
his eyes were resting on other objects. He looked at 
the men who were tendering their praise to him in 
so peculiar a way, and said : ‘ ‘ Don’t make me blush at 
the sound of praise I never won. Though I have 
stood on my feet, as you say, it looks as if I have been 
more selfish than many others. I never risked my 
life to help other men on their feet, like the man at my 
side. ” 

“As Tobe said long ago to Draque, ‘One good man 
can’t do all the good that’s to be done in the world. ’ 
Your time is coming — when the prohibition fight is 
over history will write your name that of a hero second 
to none,” said Jabez. 

At this point Klomp had something to say in favor 
of his drink ideas. All jokes were laid aside, and 
whisky or no whisky became the sole topic. The con- 
versation was sharp and pointed, and if a picture out- 
side the world of words can be given, the quick, sharp 
flashes exchanged may be compared to the swift chang- 
ing aurora borealis. But it was confined to the 
three. Ike took no part, but sat thinking and motion- 
less, except a light tap of his foot on the floor, that 
showed him ill at ease. After the lengthy word war 
was over, Jacob turned to Ike, saying: 

‘ ‘ I did not think to ask you how long you are going 
to stay.” 

“I don’t exactly know,” replied Ike — “hadn’t any 
definite time in view when I came.” 

‘ ‘ As my place is satisfactorily filled, I decided, after 


ISAAC DRAQUE, the BUCKEYE. 


289 


coming, to stay longer than I had intended, and I’ll 
expect to meet you often during my stay,” said Jacob. 
Then, looking around at his father and Jabez, he said: 
“Three or four or five may carry on a very pleasant 
and spirited conversation, but it is never the heartfelt, 
confidential article it is when between but two. ” 

The tea, served upon such short notice, had been a 
decided success, according to Mrs. Klomp’s own ver- 
sion of the affair. Alternately, she had laughed 
heartily over the jokes, and held her breath in horror 
over what seemed to her an almost come-to-blow differ- 
ence of opinion, concerning one of the most vital ques- 
tions of the age. 

The next morning, at the western boundary of his 
father’s farm — where the river sings its deathless song, 
with variations to suit the water mark ; sometimes tem- 
pestuous in its haste, and again in slow, melancholy 
cadence, like the breath of one whose life is almost 
spent — Ike met Jacob Klomp. The morning was not 
like the previous morning when Jabez and Klomp met, 
which was mild enough. No one can account for Ohio 
weather, a little before, or about Indian summer time. 
A frost had come from somewhere, and the air was 
fresh, with nothing in it that dulls, or enervates — but 
that bracing kind that makes a man feel equal to any 
task. It was the sort of a morning that makes exer- 
cise necessary for comfort, to one out of doors. 

While two days before the sun was hot enough to 
allow Jacob the luxury of stretching himself on an 
army blanket under a fine old apple tree — not that the 
tree afforded him shelter, for the leaves were nearly 
gone ; but just because it was one of the most comfort- 
able spots he had known, when the tree was budding 
into prime as well as himself. 

The two stood for some time looking over the water 
10 


290 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


of the dreamy river, where they had fished, and waded, 
and played, and plunged, and then started on to look 
at other scenes of long- forgotten sports. After a 
ramble for a couple of hours, they reached the house, 
as fast friends as when they tore out of the hollow 
logs, and appropriated to their own use the nuts the 
industrious little squirrel had gathered and put there for 
himself. Jacob pulled an easy chair to the window, 
where the sun now came in hot, and offered it to Ike. 
He then helped himself to another, and, after looking 
around upon the small part of the earth he could see, 
said: 

“When great things are projected, we too often look 
upon ourselves as irresponsible agents, ’ ’ and we meant 
mankind. “That is the reason some men never realize 
they are here on very important business. I am not 
at all blasphemous when I say some men leave every- 
thing to God. ’ ’ 

“You think, then,” asked Ike, “that God does not 
rule the earth as some men preach and the majority 
of enlightened men believe?” 

“Far from it,” replied Jacob, “but I think if God 
intended to place us always, we would be made with- 
out ideas of our own — to be put this way or that — 
something like the men on the checkerboard, to stay 
where they are placed until moved to an advantage 
by the player. ’ ’ 

“I imagine, notwithstanding all that, you cannot say 
the Great Player is not moving us just as He will, ’ ’ 
said Ike. 

“I have not a doubt, Ike, you felt He was moving 
you when you were tireless in your efforts to ehianci- 
pate the slave, and with you I believe not a bird falls 
without His permission. To enter minutely into 
details belongs more to the theologian than to us I be- 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


291 


lieve. Still, without being irreverent, I might put it in 
a way that would be expressive,” said Jacob, who 
continued as he looked out over tree and field, “God’s 
great plan, to us so incomprehensible, we have reason 
to believe is not yet complete, but is in the Artist’s 
hands. We are the hod-carriers and bricklayers — even 
artists on a small scale — placed here just as a master 
places a servant in his house, not to be carried from 
one room to another, but to open our eyes, and look 
around, and see for ourselves what is to be done that 
will tend to make the living condition of that house 
better. By and by, in God’s own time, the guide lines 
that so mar its beauty now will all be erased. Maybe 
when we cross the shore, and maybe not until the last 
day will we see the perfect picture, and until it is 
perfected there will be work for all. We are scaven- 
gers intended to keep as near the beautiful ideal as 
possible. The better nature of every man compels 
him to work for the best as he journeys on, but he 
must stop and listen to the voice of that nature. 
When I listen to that voice, Ike, it tells me nothing so 
mars the beauty of that picture like the liquor traffic. 
In fact, it is the nucleus of nearly all the disorders we 
have to contend with today. ’ ’ 

“I think it deforms the beauty of the ideal habitation 
very materially,” replied Ike; “but as that habitation 
is not to be hoped for this side of the grave, your theory 
is mere speculation. ’ ’ 

“You are wrong, Ike,” said Jacob, with much ear- 
nestness. “When a great evil has been done away 
with, there is no reason why even a greater should not. 
Don’t you think it possible the Government that pro- 
nounced the colored man a thing — and afterward 
pronounced him a free man and a citizen — may not 


292 ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 

yet be brought to see that it is still astray in its method 
of government?” 

“It is a pretty hard matter to bring a person to see 
what they have no inclination to see, and much harder 
to change the existing condition of governments, 
though both have been done, ’ ’ replied Ike. 

“Yes,” answered Jacob, “both have been done, and 
will be done again. Through history we learn this 
and that complete change has been brought about by 
such and such circumstances, and to say that God has 
no future circumstances in store would be madness. ” 

“I know well,” said Ike, contemplatively, “that 
prisons and poorhouses, as well as the big end of all 
crimes called capital, are the natural outgrowth of the 
system you so wish to see annihilated. ’ ’ 

“And can you, while admitting this without the 
least scruple, put such stress upon the word you in 
addressing me?” asked Jacob, as he looked in the un- 
flinching eye before him. 

After some moments’ reflection, Ike replied ; 

“While I am not prepared to say it cannot be done, 
there is nothing in me that points to the way in which 
it can. You see the revenue from this source is one of 
the country’s principal life — arteries — and the tendency 
is to keep that artery intact. ’ ’ 

“I know it is a sad truth that revenue is the 
enchanted word, and with individuals the tendency too 
often is to place it even before honor and justice, and 
worse, the tendency is not yet full-fledged that measures 
a man by the dollar, just as the shop-keeper measures 
cloth by the^ yard, but we can hope it is not going to 
take many years to remove that tendency; and when 
the people no longer place revenue before justice, the 
Government will be the perfect thing those people 
make it. ’ ’ 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


293 


Ike smiled as he said: “While I might not vehe- 
mently oppose your plan, as I have no exceedingly 
strong convictions one way or the other, I am afraid 
I’ll not be able to add any touches to the picture you 
spoke of that will help to beautify it.” 

“But you certainly do not think that if you troubled 
yourself to give due consideration, you might not be 
able to put in some very effective touches to the pic- 
ture? You know as well as I the victims of alcohol are 
legion. In your profession the opportunities afforded 
you to know that such is fact must have been greater 
than the help given me to known it.” 

Ike smiled sadly as he said: “I am not denying, 
and have never tried to refute a word of what you 
have laid down as fact, but it appears to me one of 
the ills of life. A curse laid at our door that we are 
not able to remove. ’ ’ 

“That’s what it is, and where it is, ” replied Jacob, 
“but that we are not able to remove it, is where 
you are wrong. In this country, Ike, as you know, 
it is the people who do great things. I am as certain 
as that I live, agitation will bring the great majority 
to see Prohibition is what the country needs. Let us 
go back to our imperfect and unsightly picture, and 
look at the helpless misery of the thousands upon 
thousands enslaved. In our daily walks through life 
we meet them everywhere, in high places and in low. 
The son of the wealthy is helped along on the wrong 
road, often by parents, until every vestige of the noble 
mind disappears, and he is a driveling idiot. The 
poor man in the face of misery and starvation for him- 
self and children, gives his last cent for the drug that 
quiets for a time the agony that drug has produced, 
that nothing else will alleviate, and that he feels he 
cannot endure, ’ ’ 


294 ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 

Ike dropped his head. He is feeling some of the 
torture that was being portrayed; but what Jacob said 
called forth no response. 

Jacob began again, and every tone of his well modu- 
lated voice was like a sword attached to words that 
were cutting into Ike’s heart as he proceeded to say : 
“Toward every other class of sufferers we have a 
tendency to be charitable. Hospitals are built, nurses 
are trained and doctors procured. The man who par- 
takes of food in such quantities and of such quality as 
ruins his stomach is a dyspeptic, and is tenderly and 
humanely cared for, and so ad infinitum. He who 
becomes a sufferer from alcohol alone is a criminal 
and is treated as such. The jail or the workhouse is 
his abode until the paroxysm is over, and then he is 
turned loose, with possibly the admonition to do 
better in the future.’’ He paused a moment, drew a 
deep sigh, and continued: “There is no greater 
inconsistency^ and no question today of greater im- 
portance to men and voters everywhere than the 
liquor question. ’ ’ 

Ike’s breath was not coming freely; while struggling 
to repress the choking sensation, he managed to say: 
“I have no doubt you are right, but public opinion 
is almost as a unit arrayed against you. ’ ’ 

“And so was public opinion as solidly arrayed 
against the emancipation of the slave,” said Jacob. 
“When Tobias Lenk first uttered his heartfelt senti- 
ments on that question to the people in this part of 
the state, not one stepped out boldly and said I am 
with you.” With his mind’s eye he looked at the farm 
once Tobe’s, and said: 

“Like the slave-holders, they are pretty big-headed 
men who are engaged in the liquor traffic. They look 
straight ahead at the almighty dollar they are going to 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


295 


lay their hands on if they can, regardless of conse- 
quenc.es. To them it does not matter much if two or 
three members of the family succumb to the effects of 
their article of merchandise; they can afford to have 
cells padded, and the world moves on to their satisfac- 
tion admirably. But while admitting all that, we 
must still admit the blame is ours. The motto of 
every good citizen today should be what it was years 
ago. The greatest good to the greatest number. 
Those who are so comfortably cared for, are but a drop 
in the vast ocean. Under existing conditions the wail 
of the millions in torture, either directly or indirectly 
from the same cursed cause, falls upon the ears of a 
Christian people with as little effect tending to miti- 
gate, as the cry of the first Christians fell upon the ear 
of the heathen Nero.” 

Jacob arose and paced the floor as he continued to 
say: “I tell you, friend, it cannot last. The people of 
this country will rise up and knock the foundation 
from under the liquor traffic in the face of revenue as 
effectually as they wiped out slavery, were the prog- 
ress of the country depending upon that revenue, which 
thank God it is not. ’ ’ 

He now seated himself, sat back in his chair, and 
whirled around and around his pocket-knife that lay on 
the table beside him. Ike sat in the easy chair that 
had been given him, a very uncomfortable man. 
The gray-haired stranger that had poured such mes- 
sages of brotherly love into his soul had returned to 
dust. He longed to meet again someone able to stim- 
ulate him to just such unselfish feelings as he once 
possessed ; but he ruefully shook his head, and said in 
his heart, “the man before me understands the situa- 
tion better than anyone I ever met, but he cannot help 
me. Were a Prohibition president placed in the chair 


296 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


at the coming election, it would be too late for 
me.” 

He arose hurriedly and bade Jacob “good-day,” 
saying “he would see him again before he left. ” 

‘ ‘ The days slip away very fast here, ’ ’ said J acob. 
“I’ll take a walk over to Jabez’ tomorrow early in the 
afternoon, if you think you will be in. ’ ’ 

“I’ll be on hand,” replied Ike, as he walked away. 


CHAPTER XXVIL 


Before going to the house Ike made it a point to 
visit the fields once known as John Strand’s place. 
The season was not spring, as it was when poor neg- 
lected little Tim lay dead; which event called him 
that way the last time. He did not try to persuade 
himself it was the reason that made his heart so heavy. 
Though there was no song of birds, or rustling of soft, 
green leaves, he was prepared for that. Since that 
time, every one of his kin had been torn from his 
father’s house, and yet, that was not the millstone 
around his neck. How few they are today, Ike, who 
have any more sympathy for you than you had for 
John Strand! 

After viewing the fields, and meditating at length, 
not like the hopeful, wholesouled and intelligent Ike, 
but like a mere walking machine, he dragged through 
the fields, entered the house, and mechanically threw 
himself into a chair. 

“Jacob Klomp is a pleasant, sensible man, isn’t he, 
Ike,’’ asked Jabez, as he and Peggy seated themselves 
with a view of being companionable the remainder of 
the day. 

“He is both pleasant and sensible,” replied Ike, 
“and can go as deep down into a man’s heart with his 
pleasant sensible words as any man I ever had the mis- 
fortune to meet. ’ ’ 

Peggy looked at Ike in astonishment, and said in a 
great hurry : “I’m sure he wouldn’t wound anybody’s 
feelings, Ike, with the least intention of doing it.” 

Ike did not reply. J abez had made up his mind to 
be prepared for anything. It was evident Jacob 

297 


298 ISAAC BRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 

Klomp had, or had not; made a favorable impression, 
and what Ike said could well be interpreted in two 
ways. He asked: “Are we to understand you think 
it a misfortune that you met him, Ike. 

Without looking to the right or left, Ike calmly 
replied: “It may be a misfortune for a man to be 
made feel how much more miserable he is than his 
friend. ’ ’ 

Jabez remembered Jacob Klomp had said, “T be- 
lieve it is something persuasion has nothing to do 
with,” and his own convictions were every bit as 
strong. He looked at Ike, and said below his breath, 
“you might as well try persuade a man that’s grad- 
ually throwing up his lungs to not cough; it was to 
satisfy Peggy and not myself that I did this. ’ ’ 

Peggy brightened, and said: “Some people have 
their misfortunes in their own hands, and can turn 
them right into fortunes if they, want to. ’ ’ 

“I am sorry Jacob Klomp cannot agree with you,” 
was Ike’s laconic answer. 

After Ike went out, Jacob did what every man once 
a country boy can do the moment he sets his foot 
within the boundary line of the farm — whistle — but it 
was so faint that one standing a few feet away would 
be hardly able to hear. It seemed to be all in his 
soul, and he listening himself so intently to something 
he loved to hear, that he was afraid a more forcible 
display of breath might drive it all away. 

Dream on, Jacob, for since the souls of men were 
ransomed by the Precious Blood, no man ever had a 
fairer dream. 

The sound of the rumbling wheels of the out-bound 
train was coming nearer and nearer. Ike thought 
that minute of Ruth, and said something about the 
city, and when he got home. 


ISAAG DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


299 


“But you’re not thinking about home so soon, are 
you, Ike?” asked Jabez; “you’ve hardly been here 
long enough to be benefited by the coming. ’ ’ 

“I think I’ll go back the day after tomorrow,’’ said 
Ike. “Ruth was not very well when I left, and I have 
been thinking about her a good deal. I really should 
go back tomorrow but Jacob is coming over; it will 
probably be our last visit, and I will stay on that ac- 
count. ’ ’ 

“Well,” said Jabez, “we must submit to what you 
say; but I believe supper is waiting, isn’t it, Peggy?” 

“Yes,” answered Peggy, who, looking at Ike, said; 
“I kept dinner waiting for you, Ike.” 

“I am sorry,” said Ike. 

“Sorry and glad,” said Jabez, as they faced the tea- 
table. “Sorry we waited, and glad to take dinner 
with Jacob, isn’t that how it stands?” 

“But I did not take dinner with Jacob,” answered 
Ike, whose face was now more expressionless than a 
statue — all of which he intended. 

“Missed your dinner between the two houses?” 
queried Jabez. 

“That is just what I did,” said Ike. 

“Why, how did that happen?” inquired Peggy. 

“Mr. and Mrs. Klomp thought Jacob went out for 
the day, and went to town on business; they had not 
returned when I left. It is probably my fault that both 
Jacob and myself were not here for dinner. I met him 
this morning under an old chestnut on the river bank, 
and instead of inviting him here, went home with him. ’ ’ 

“And Jacob is hungry, too?” asked Jabez. 

“He must be,” answered Ike, as he smiled for the 
first time during the dialogue, probably thinking Jabez 
was judging Jacob by himself, who bid fair to not leave 
much on the plate he had been helped to. 


300 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


“That's right,” said Jabez, who was glad to see Ike’s 
smile. “If a body wouldn’t mix up a little fun with 
real living our faces would grow out of shape for the 
want of a good laugh. ’ ’ 

“What’s wrong with Ruth?” asked Peggy. “I don’t 
remember of hearing you say anything about her being 
sick. ’ ’ 

“Maybe I did not,” said Ike, rather distractedly. 
“I don’t know that she is sick, but the thought came 
to me a while ago that when I left home she was in bed, 
and not feeling well. ’ ’ 

“If that’s all,” said Jabez, “you might as well stay 
where you are, for if she was choosing a nurse this 
minute, it wouldn’t be you she’d choose.” 

Ike looked at Peggy with a smile that did not at all 
suit his countenance, considering the condition of his 
feelings at heart, and said to Jabez: 

“You can count upon me staying tomorrow.” 

“So far, so good,” said Jabez, who continued as they 
left the table : “If you could suggest any method of 
being entertained to your liking, for the rest of the 
evening, and tomorrow until Jacob comes, Peggy and 
myself are listening. ’ ’ 

Ike’s forced laugh came again to the rescue as he 
said, “I was just about to suggest for my pastime a 
nap of indefinite length. ’ ’ 

“Very well,” said Jabez, “you can have your own 
way. ’ ’ 

Ike went to his room with a heart heavy as lead, 
that so weighed him down he had not a love left for 
the beautiful world that so charmed him when a 
thoughtful boy he roamed through field and forest, 
exploring with thankful heart the part of God’s creation 
lent to the Draque family. 

It was still the privilege of Bounce to see that things 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


301 


were conducted properly, according to his dogship’s 
ideas of the proper, in the vicinity of Jabez’ door-yard 
and garden. This evening he was particularly nettled 
over the appearance of a rat that had come from the 
direction of the granary, and dared to cross the path 
that led from the kitchen door, at a remarkably safe 
distance from himself ; it may have been the distance, 
and a knowledge of his inability to lay a tooth on the 
provoking little animal that so aroused the vehement 
in his nature, combined with the tantalizing manner 
in which that animal stood for a second, and measured 
the distance from Bounce to himself, and then from 
himself to the straw-stack that stood near by. 

“You’ll have to do something to stop Bounce, 
Jabez,” said Peggy. “Ike nor nobody could rest with 
that racket about. ’ ’ 

“Ike’s not going to rest much,” answered Jabez, 
“and Bounce might as well be an excuse for keeping 
him awake as any other. He’s not in a condition to 
sleep if there wasn’t a sound within five miles of us. 
Well as he conducts himself, and pleasant as he appears, 
he’s suffering in a way you or I don’t understand, for 
he hasn’t taken a drink since he came. ” 

“He may have made up his mind to let it alone,” 
said Peggy. 

“He may have, and I haven’t a doubt he often did 
the same before,” replied Jabez. 

“After all, have you no hope, Jabez?” asked 
Peggy. 

“ Not a bit, ” said J abez ; “ it ’ s a great deal, Peggy, to 
ask a man to let alone the only thing known to him that 
will cure such suffering as he’s undergoing, and that 
nothing kills the effect like the cause he’s had ample 
opportunity to know. He was put on the wrong track, 
and he’s gone so far there’s. no turn back. We may 


302 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


put it down as fact whenever he can lay his hand upon 
the comforter he’s going to do it; and so will every 
one in his condition, man or woman. ’ ’ 

It was as Jabez said, Ike could not rest; he arose 
and paced the floor. The town that first appeared in 
the wilderness in the shape of a log school house, drug 
store, meeting house, and blacksmith shop, was not far 
away; he might in a short time make his way there, 
and then — but it would not do, Jacob Klomp was to be 
there the next afternoon, and he promised to see him 
— he must fight. The greater part of the night he 
walked up and down, up and down, his room until near 
morning, when he threw himself on his bed, and from 
sheer exhaustion he slept. He arose late, and worried 
through the day in expectation of Jacob. About the 
middle of the afternoon Jacob presented himself and 
asked at once for Ike. Ike responded to the summons 
as mechanically as he had crossed the fields the day be- 
fore. Jacob noticed at once the lifeless appearance of 
the man before him, and said, “You are sick, I see.” 

“I wish you kept the old sheep story till now, Ike,” 
said Jabez; “it would send the blood dancing through 
your veins in a way that would revive you. ’ ’ 

“He may have a better one to tell, who knows,” said 
Peggy. 

“No he hasn’t,” said Jacob, as he laughed heartily. 
“In all our experience together I cannot think of any- 
thing that happened as ludicrous as that. ’ ’ Then turn- 
ing to Ike, he asked: “How would a walk suit you?” 

Ike’s expression was comical, as he replied: “It 
might answer, but I walked pretty steadily all night, 
and consequently have not the same desire for 
the exercise as the man who slept soundly; however, 
as my company is the very best. I’ll try it. ” 

Jacob had resolved to have another talk upon his 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


303 


favorite topic with Ike, but as the two walked on slowly 
and in silence something asked him why he should so 
persecute his friend. It is useless to explain to the 
one suffering from malaria, who is alternately perishing 
from cold, and burning with more than tropical heat, 
that to remove his trouble, and the danger of countless 
others being afflicted in the same way, it is necessary 
to drain the malarial swamp, when that draining must 
be done by the sound in body. As if in answer to 
that voice, or something that spoke to him as noise- 
lessly, he framed his thoughts into some such words as 
these : 

“It is not my object to make the miserable more mis- 
erable by dealing blows to those already down, but to 
arouse the sound of body to a practical sense of duty. 
When but sixty thousand votes were polled for our 
Abolition candidate, we hardly hoped to realize so 
soon that slavery was a thing of the past. With next 
to no agitation as yet on the Prohibition question, I 
venture to affirm we might count upon sixty thousand 
who are heart and soul in the cause. ’ ’ 

Ike put an end for the time to his own unpleasant 
reverie by disturbing J acob in his, which was anything 
but unpleasant, since it was self imposed, and his heart 
in it. In other words, he had resolved to take pleasure 
in doing unpleasant things for the public good. The 
spell that held both was broken by Ike’s asking the 
question : 

“This stepping is rather monotonous, isn’t it, 
Jacob?’’ 

“No, not to me,’’ came the quick reply,’’ but if you 
find it so, I am ready to indulge in any pastime that 
may meet with your approval. ’ ’ 

“That, I leave entirely to your superior power of 
invention, as my native energy seems to have deserted 


304 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


me,” said Ike, as he seated himself on a large 
boulder. 

Jacob quietly took a seat beside Ike, and said: “I am 
forced to think more of God, the prime inventor, in 
solitude like this, in the presence of so many of His 
wonderful inventions, and to wish to invent only in 
accordance with His will. ’ ’ 

“So are we all, I think,” replied Ike, who, looking 
directly at Jacob, said, “It is something like the ideal 
habitation you spoke of yesterday. ’ ’ 

“ Yes, ” continued J acob, “we are cut loose from every- 
thing inharmonious, not forever, but for a little while. ’ ’ 
Ike took off his hat, ran his fingers slowly through the 
short hair of his finely shaped head, and said, “While 
your remarks yesterday were intended to be general, 
I felt they were very personal. The stress laid upon 
the pronoun, I, was painful.” 

“I am sorry if they wounded,” answered Jacob. 
“You need not be,” responded Ike. “I’ll promise 
you may count upon my vote for the desired change 
in conditions that now exist, protected by law, as the 
man who bought and sold human beings was protected, 
and that is as much as I can promise. ’ ’ 

“I am glad to hear you say that,” answered Jacob. 
“Every step in the right direction has a telling effect. 
You may depend upon it, the day is coming when the 
liquor traffic, with its outgrowth of crimes and punish- 
ment, will be a blacker and more damning stain upon 
the civilization of our country, than slavery with all its 
indignities and injustice. Its foundation, apparently 
so solid, does not rest with the seller and manufacturer 
— nor internal revenue, that in the eyes of some holds 
it so intact — ^but with public opinion, that is pliable as 
yonder sapling, when taken hold of by hands not 
mercenary. ’ ’ 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 305 

Ike said not a word. The west wind had been 
blowing briskly for some time ; but now the two felt 
its great force as it rushed through the clump of trees 
by their side, and sent the few remaining scarlet and 
dead leaves to their grave, and yet, not satisfied, play- 
fully whirled them around in eddies after they had 
reached their tomb. It was a relief to Ike to be able 
to get away from the painful subject he had been 
contemplating. He looked at the gathering clouds, 
and said, “It is nothing but wind.” 

“That is all, ” said Jacob. ‘ Tf it were not so late in 
the season, it would be necessary to look for shel- 
ter.” 

Both sat for awhile longer, each deeply engrossed 
with his own thoughts. They arose and bade good-by 
on the spot where Ike had promised to work in the 
cause of Prohibition, as far as lay in his power, and 
took different paths to the homes that were sheltering 
them for a few days. 


20 


CHAPTER XXVIII. 


All the quiet charms of country could not ‘keep Ike 
an hour longer than he must stay. The first train, 
whether midnight or morning, would take him on his 
return trip; that he decided before Jacob Klomp was 
out of sight or Jabez’ house was reached. He felt 
uneasy about Ruth, as he thought of her, and said, 
almost aloud, “It was the first time I struck her, often 
as she dared me. ’ ’ 

Ike had stopped, and looked after Jacob several 
times, as he walked on maybe out of his sight forever. 
Now, as Jacob crossed a fence, he turned to see if Ike 
was still in view, and catching his eye, he waved a 
farewell with his hand, which Ike returned as they 
were wont to do when boys. 

Jacob was exceedingly melancholy that evening when 
alone. He thought of the Ike of former years, and 
contrasted him with the Ike with whom he had just 
parted, and the following thoughts came fast into his 
troubled mind : 

“If Ike was an isolated case the world he came in 
contact with would have great vSympathy for him, and 
a remedy would be eagerly sought; but because we 
can multiply the case by ten hundred thousand, and 
then the story not be told, we accept the condition as 
one that will not admit of change, and journey on, 
groaning under the weight of a burden we imagine 
too great to throw off, precisely as the good living, 
honest minded men viewed the slavery question a short 
time ago. There are many, too, who in silence oppose 
the degrading traffic ; but if they would accomplish any- 

306 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


307 


thing, they must arise and put that silence in motion. 
Motion is the wonder worker. Stagnation is death ; it 
speaks of the grave and gloom, and the return to noth- 
ingness of all material things. The sun moves, and 
that motion gives life to all manner of creation, both 
animal and vegetable, of which we have any knowl- 
edge. When the machinery of our bodies is unable to 
keep moving, the spirit goes out. Rest is found upon 
the other shore ; but is it not a part of the great plan 
with which we are familiar. Action is the condition 
of life in this world of ours, and intelligent action, 
with truth and justice in view, brings about the best 
results. ’ ’ 

Jacob stopped and looked around. The wind was 
sighing through the bare branches a most sad refrain ; 
was it for the green leaves it had played so coyly with 
all the summer, and that were now strewn on the 
ground? He looked up beyond the clouds, and thoughts 
came fast, but with no one near to hear what he had 
to say he was obliged to soliloquize. 

“That on some far off planet there may exist a race 
that can breathe and live ; that may bask in light and 
shadow, and enjoy all the beauties and good of vege- 
tation, floral and otherwise, regardless of our great 
luminary, has nothing to do with us in the face of more 
important facts. This is our sphere, and we are not 
blind workers. We have a spark of that Intelligence 
that called all things into being, and as Christians we 
believe it a priceless gift, concerning the use of which 
the Supreme Intelligence will call us into account. 
Neither are we ignorant of the fact that we are called 
upon to lay aside ambition and personal interest, in 
so far as they conflict with truth and justice and uni- 
versal good. ’ ’ 

He took from his pocket a memorandum book, 


3o8 ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 

Opened it, and ran his finger over the pages, until half- 
way down the third or fourth page, when he stopped, 
held his finger close to the spot, and looked away from 
the book. Such was his thoughtful position, when 
Klomp called to him. 

“Jake, you can’t live on rambles and country air 
a whit better than I can. You’d better come in and 
eat supper with your mother and me.’’ 

Jacob placidly replaced the book, and entered the 
house saying, “You are not afraid I will lose flesh, are 
you, father?” 

“You haven’t much of it to lose,” answered his 
father, with a significant toss of his head; and then 
looking at Mrs. Klomp as if he would like to have her 
approval, continued: “If you’d take a little wine or 
beer every day like that son of Schiver’s you’d soon be 
something to look at. ’ ’ 

“The loss of his mother in his young days, and a 
stepmother as pilot, much as some of the neighbors 
objected, had a good effect you think?” asked Jacob. 

Klomp stopped awhile to think and said, innocently 
as a boy not out of his teens would say it, “It’s not 
much piloting the stepmother did. ’ ’ 

“I understand,” said Jacob, “he was his own pilot 
sooner than was good for him, and he chose a way 
that was agreeable but not good. I have seen very 
little of him, but I have seen enough to be certain of 
that. He is welcome to his flesh, father, when it is at 
the expense of so much that is better.” 

“Such habits didn’t put much flesh on Ike Draque, 
I notice,” said Klomp, now inclined to be serious. 

“No,” replied Jacob, “Ike took his medicine to 
keep him stirring. He was an active, restless fellow, 
and not likely to lay up much flesh under any circum- 
stance. He never stopped in one place ^in idleness 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


309 


long enough to accumulate an ounce of fat, while 
Schiver’s son takes the world easy.” 

“That’s what Ike was,” replied Klomp, “and more’s 
the pity he’s disabled, when he was always try ins: to 
do good. ’ ’ 

Jacob looked at his father quizzically, and respect- 
fully said: “If I had not the good fortune to be placed 
in a college — all of which I have to thank you for — 
where those of the faculty I most loved and respected 
made it a matter of conscience to not touch, I would 
probably be in the condition of Ike or Schiver’s son.” 

“I don’t believe it necessary that you should,” said 
Klomp. 

“But do you not think it highly probable, father?” 
asked Jacob. 

“Well, no,” answered Klomp. “It did me no harm, 
as well as many others that I know of. ’ ’ 

“Do you think it did you any real good?” asked 
J acob. 

Klomp chuckled to himself as he replied, “I can’t 
say I ever took enough to benefit me much. ’ ’ 

‘No,” said Jacob, “but John Strand, and Tobe, and 
Ike, and Schiver’s son took enough. ” 

“They took too much,” said Klomp, as he shook his 
clenched fist over the dish before him, and then rested 
it on the table in a manner not the most gentle. 

“You have certainly touched the pivot, father, upon 
which this fiourishing liquor traffic so gracefully 
turns,” replied Jacob, with a sad, determined look, as 
he laid his hand on the table, gentle but firm, and 
said, “but depend upon it, it will not satisfy serious 
thinkers in the near future. ” 

“Jabez seems to think that money is the back-bone 
of the whole thing,” replied Klomp, apparently not 
caring much whether such was the case or not. 


310 ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 

“Jabez may or may not be right,” answered Jacob, 
“but if he is, the backbone, important as it is, 
depends upon other things to hold it in position. 
I think the prevailing wrong opinion that it is right to 
drink moderately and habitually a poison, from the 
effects of which there is no escape, but that surely un- 
dermines all constitutions, though in varied ways, is 
the prop that holds the ugly back-bone of the liquor 
traffic where it is. ’ ’ 

“Jacob looked steadily at his father, and asked: 
“Suppose you and every other well-meaning man in 
the country, father, were convinced of that fact, how 
strong do you think that back-bone would be?” 

“Well, Jake,” replied his father, slowly, “when it 
comes down to the point that the people see it’s wrong, 
it ’ill not take long to break the back-bone of the 
critter. ’ ’ 

A broad smile played over his face as he thought of 
the time when a couple of active, earnest workers set 
him seriously thinking about a question he had hereto- 
fore thought none of his business. And now the 
voice of approbation from all the good and great, as 
well as the thanks of those made free, made him feel 
happy that he had so nobly acted his part. 

He sat without speaking for some time, as did all. 
He was probably taking a view of the disabled critter, 
and the effect upon the commonwealth. The rising 
generation was basking in sunlight and peace, for 
there was no serpent. No ragged, abused, half-fed 
children, lost to love and care paraded before him, 
with old, sorrow-stricken faces. The jails and prisons 
of all kinds dwindled down to a few, still enough to 
accommodate those brought there when the enemy 
was dead. The wholesale murders, so numerous that 
not a little spot a mile square, however thinly popu- 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


31 


lated, can boast as being a place not blood-stained, and 
the consequent wholesale strangling, as well as the 
countless suicides of the poor victims of alcohol, who, 
like the gladiators of old, saw no escape from man or 
beast but death, were alike things of the past. 

And he really resolved that, “if what Jake said was 
true, and maybe it might, for he knew a heap,'’ to be 
as liberal with his vote as he was on the former occasion 
of which he felt so proud. He was the first to speak, 
and as if to prepare himself for an uncommon task, he 
shoved his plate directly in the center of what was 
termed his place at the table, looked at it as if it held 
a place of great importance in the visible creation, and 
then said, “The black man is of another race, but 
when we were called upon to see that justice was done 
by him not one of us shirked. ’ ’ 

“If I have been correctly informed, there was con- 
siderable shirking for a long time,” said Jacob, smiling 
at his father, who he saw a little more yielding. 
“Stray shots from Tobe and later from Ike were nec- 
essary before much progress was made in the aforesaid 
direction; but in every new step taken we must be 
prepared for that. ’ ’ 

“That’s so,” said Klomp. “I remember the day 
like it was yesterday, I made up my mind to vote the 
Republican ticket. Tobe never could do much with 
me, but Jabez was always a rock of sense in every 
way, and he made me understand how he was right, 
at last. ’ ’ 

“Shall I have the honor of being thought sensible?” 
asked Jacob. 

“It ’ill do later on to be positive about that,” said 
Klomp, with a toss of his head. “I’ll wait till I see 
a prospect of the candidate you’re reaching after. 

“He will be on hand, and before long,” said Jacob. 


312 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


“Then the cry will be, no intoxicating drinks in our 
country, from shore to shore; and then will be the 
time for every man to show his mettle. Remember, 
too, father, the race we expect to free and help is our 
own as well as the other we boast of doing so much 
for. And we can simmer it down finer than that. 
There is not a citizen of these United States who by 
so voting is not helping to eradicate a curse that has 
claimed for its own some member of his or his father’s 
household; and the bondage from which we would 
release them is a thousand times more disgraceful to 
civilization. ’ ’ 

“I’ll remember it, Jake,” said his father, as both 
agreed to drop the subject, and left the supper 
table. 

But with Klomp the subject proved one that would 
not drop. The question now interested him in a way 
it had never done before. He had argued with Jabez 
in the field a whole forenoon, as well as at. various 
other times in divers places, and had never yielded an 
inch of the theory he had fastened upon, which was : 
A man should be allowed to drink what he pleases so 
long as he interferes with no other man’s affairs. 
And yet he could see clearly all along why John 
Chinaman should not be allowed to indulge in opium, 
and for the first time he stopped to ask himself the 
question, “Where’s the difference?’’ 

He tugged awhile at his chin whiskers, and then 
ventured to say to Jacob, “So you think, Jake, alcohol 
has an effect on the system that the will has nothing 
to do with, much like the poison of a rattlesnake or 
a mad dog, that lays a man out in spite of him?’’ 

“That’s precisely what I believe,’’ said Jacob, his 
firm manner denoting the strength of his conviction. 

“I knew a man that went raving mad nigh two 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


313 


years after he was bitten by a mad dog,” said Klomp, 
in an abstract way, as if his thoughts wandered alto- 
gether from the subject. “I saw him a few days be- 
fore the first fit, and you’d think he was as sensible as 
you or I. He had several fits, and after coming out of 
one he was as sensible as before it, only weak, and 
wouldn t harm a child; but, somehow, he knew he 
was dangerous, and asked those around him to see that 
he did no harm. Now, Jake, I’ll show you where my 
doubts about what you say come in. The dog bit that 
man in spite of him, whereas the man, working in 
delirium from alcohol, took it himself. ’ ’ 

“I find that the stumbling-block with every one to 
whom I talk, father,” said Jacob, “and yet to me it is 
plain, the latter is more to be pitied. The former knew 
the bite of a rabid dog meant death, and the enemy 
came openly. He might cross a fence, there was a 
possibility of escape; while the latter was destroyed 
by stealth. He was led by friends through pleasant 
ways, with the approval of public opinion, backed by 
the example of men Christians looked upon as workers 
in the vineyard of the Lord. ’ ’ 

Klomp made no reply, but said shortly after as he 
looked at the time, “the hours slip wonderfully fast, 
Jake.” 

“Yes,” said Jacob, “it doesn’t take long to grow 
old, ” and he pointed to his own gray hairs. 

“Ugh!” interjected his father, “Jabez and Draque 
and myself thought ourselves old men twenty years 
ago, and we’re likely to live ten years yet. You can’t 
always go by the years and the gray hair. ’ ’ 

“No,” said Jacob, “the truth is, a man is always as 
old as he feels. Some men die of old age at seventy, 
and others at ninety, just as some men are disabled by 
alcohol at twenty, and others not till forty. Age to 


314 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


the individual means the time given him to travel a 
certain road. The one who wanders around a long 
time, and the one whose years are few, must go out 
by the same gate; and with as much certainty can we 
say that alcohol produces in all men similar effects. 
Because the time is longer in some cases than others 
before those effects are apparent, it cannot be affirmed 
such effects are not being produced. I have seen 
men, and so have you, father, dying of delirium 
tremens, against whom no one could bring the charge 
of drunkenness. ’ ’ 

“It’s a fact,” said Klomp, slapping his hands as if 
a new idea dawned upon him. “Will Langon, that 
came here with the rest of us, when a man couldn’t see 
the length of himself ahead for the trees, and a jolly 
good fellow he was, all the days of his life, went that 
way. ” 

He turned a questioning look at Jacob, and said, “It 
maybe you’ve heard of him?” 

“I heard of him, but remember very little of him,” 
said J acob. 

“No,” said Klomp, who was now in a reflective 
mood. “He took a tract of land a little out of the 
way. We couldn’t all be in a pile, you see. He was 
an industrious fellow, and it didn’t suit him to cross so 
many fields to spend an evening at Hibe’s; however, 
he came sometimes, until at length he concluded he’d 
save time and keep some on hand at the house.” At 
this point Klomp took his handkerchief, carefully wiped 
and re- wiped his face, and went on. “When beer came 
in fashion out here, which was a bit later than whisky, 
Will took exceeding to that, and kept his keg. He was 
always working and a first class neighbor he was, too, 
until one day he was laid up with a pain. They 
brought in as good a doctor as could be found, and he 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


315 


said it was lung fever he had. He prescribed for him, 
but beer was not in the prescription, and Mrs. Langon 
saw that things were carried out according to the 
doctor’s prescription.” 

Klomp stopped again, and mopped away at his face 
with the self-same handkerchief, then said: “You’d 
hardly believe me, Jake, but I, with three or four 
others, were called in to hold that man in bed; he 
thought the pictures on the wall and the chairs about 
the room were men coming to kill him, and he struck 
out right and left till he died from exhaustion. ’ ’ 

“And you knew it was the want of long accustomed 
stimulants and not the fever that caused his death?” 
asked Jacob. 

“I’ll be bound if I saw it then, Jake, or never until 
now,” said Klomp, rising and very much excited. 

‘A candid physician would pronounce that a case of 
delirium tremens, superinduced by pneumonia,” said 
Jacob, who said “good-night” to his father, and two 
minutes later the room was dark. 

Klomp muttered to himself as he groped his way 
out in the darkness. “Jake’s nobody’s fool. ’' 


CHAPTER XXIX. 


Ike had been home with Meg and the children a half 
hour or so when Jacob laid his head on the pillow that 
night to think of him and some others he was especially 
interested in outside the ten hundred thousand he was 
so certain he saw unquestionably crippled. Their 
malady not of such a nature as leprosy, or they would 
be given a place somewhere, and left alone to die; 
nor like hydrophobia, where the man who has rabies 
is humanely handled. He saw his sick scattered over 
the whole world, at the mercy of the policeman’s club 
and hangman’s halter, as their families are at their 
mercy when the paroxysm is on. 

“But those cases are few, and it can be easily done,’ 
he hears a voice beside him say. 

He looked up in surprise, and a personage stalked 
before him very tall and erect, and unyielding in the 
extreme, yet obliging enough to be willing to carry 
on a conversation to an indefinite length. The name 
of the individual was wound around the turban in 
bright letters, and read. Justice. The bright, deep-set 
eyes saw everything, from New York to San Fran- 
cisco, and from the North to the city in the gulf, and 
complacently smiled on the scene. Jacob read the 
name on the turban, and looked for the scale in the 
hand, but the arm hung by the side as if dead from the 
shoulder. He rested his eye on the apparition, and 
exclaimed, “You are not Justice, but a phantom call- 
ing yourself such ! ’ ’ 

In tones melting and meek, the figure named Justice 
replied, “I am the voice of the people.” 

316 


317 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 

“I recognize you as such,” was the answer that came 
from his heart, and stuck like a knot in his throat that 
seemed to almost choke him as he appealed to Justice 
as an individual whose private opinion he valued, and 
asked : 

“ If a hundred mad dogs were let loose, each claiming 
its thousand victims, would it be just to club and stran- 
gle those victims, and open the public highways to the 
rabies?” 

The figure looked down at the limp arm, Jacob 
thought appealingly, and said again, “I am the voice 
of the people. ’ ’ 

‘‘The people are not here. Why parley with the 
apparition,” said Jacob, as he settled upon his pillow 
to consult with self after the following manner. 

“The more unjust and barbarous would it appear 
were those victims, some innocent boys, and all, un- 
thinking and ignorant of results told, and the strong 
arm of the law in the voice. You may go near the 
mad dog every day, and play with him if you like. 
You may let him snap at you, there is no harm in that. 
You may let him tear your coat if you find any 
pleasure in it, but don’t let him give you the fatal 
bite.” 

Jacob’s heart throbbed on, till at last the weary mind 
was oblivious to any ache there might be there. The 
atmosphere around Ike’s home was as unwholesome as 
before. The trip brought no permanent good result. 
Ruth was worse, and harder to care for. She had 
grown thin and had a pitiable look on her face. Meg 
was weary and heart-sick, and Ike was startled at how 
much older his father looked in those few days. In 
the morning, at an early hour, he was seated by an 
uncurtained window overlooking the porch, where the 
ivy’s brown vines were so closely twined that a passer- 


31 8 ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 

by could not see inside, with his head buried in his 
hands, and with no light load upon his heart, when 
Draque stepped cautiously up to him and tapped him 
on the shoulder, saying, “Ike, I don’t believe Ruth 
’ill ever get well. ’ ’ 

Ike was on his feet so soon that Draque backed out 
of his way in astonishment. He looked at his father 
a good while before speech came to him, and then he 
said, “I did not know there vras anything serious the 
matter with her. ’ ’ 

“It’s serious enough, Ike, when her little back is 
broken,’’ said Draque, as he choked with indignation 
toward Ike, and turned his back to him, while he 
dashed the tears away. In a moment he faced him 
again and said, “I’ve forgiven you everything you 
ever did, Ike. I’ve talked to you and tried to make 
you give up the drink when nobody else would bother 
with you, but now I have no more kind feelings for 
you forever when 3mu could abuse a helpless little 
thing like that. ’’ 

He walked away without again deigning to rest his 
eye on Ike. The color left Ike’s face, and every inch 
of that once active man was still save the aching, 
breaking heart. If he had gone to the bedside and 
wept over the little sufferer, Draque could not help 
relenting, but no, Ike showed no signs of sorrow that 
friend or foe could see. But notwithstanding his 
stolid appearance he was one of the most miserable 
of men, and certainly not miserable because heartless, 
as some were prone to suspect. The one friend he 
was always so sure would sympathize with him and 
give help and advice, and point out the way that 
had become such an enigma — when even Meg could 
see nothing hut untold misery in the future — had cast 
him off forever. And Ruth; poor little Ruth, with a 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


319 


broken back, that he would gladly have his own two 
hands chopped off to make whole. He would face 
bullets more bravely than he ever did on the battle- 
field, and that with a full knowledge of being hit by 
every one, could he take back the blow he had dealt 
Ruth. ’Tis hopeless remorse that will never heal a 
broken back, combined with the knowledge that he 
had weighed his strength in the balance, and found 
himself wanting, that made him the speechless and 
seemingly heartless creature he appeared. 

He again took the seat he had left upon hearing 
his father’s startling words, and braced up a little 
better than he was able to do earlier. As he sat there, 
his chin cleared his chest about an inch and a half, 
and his thumbs caught the arms-eyes of his vest in 
such a manner that his fingers came together under 
his chin. If pen in mortal hand or brush of artist was 
able to picture the real condition of the internal man as 
accurately, Ike would be tenderly lifted from that 
place of torture, and soothing words would be poured 
into the despairing soul, that never hopes to hear such 
words again ; for the human heart still beats in sym- 
pathy for those who are unjustly judged and con- 
demned. But, alas ! Through all the long ages, Ike, 
justice to your fellow-sufferers has been the cripple 
it appeared to Jacob Klomp, and so it will be to 
you. 

Jacob was astir early that morning, for the days 
were growing few in which he was to have unbounded 
freedom every hour of the day, to place his thoughts 
and attentions just where he pleased. All distressing 
and unpleasant thoughts vanished with the apparition, 
and did not again appear to disturb sound and refresh- 
ing sleep. 

Klomp had for years kept a man on the place, but, 


320 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


according to his own version, “he was by choice 
general manager, and while he didn’t feel any the 
worse for the wear, intended to be.” He still did 
a great many chores, and in busy seasons some of the 
hard work, and with considerable pride in his manner 
he said, “with as little fatigue as many a youngster.” 
In such respects, he and Jabez were as like as two 
peas. After Ike’s departure, Jabez went to the field 
where he had left off duty upon his arrival, looked 
about, and laid out plans for the future. Klomp had 
“laid the harness off,” and had no intention of putting 
it on while Jacob was at home. Shortly after break- 
fast he went into the sitting room to have a talk with 
Jacob, for he never tired hearing what he had to say. 
He found him busy with his pen in hand. Several 
sheets of paper lay before him on the table, all well 
filled. 

“You must have been at it early, Jake,” said Klomp, 
pointing to the table; “that looks like as if you had 
a day’s work already done.” 

Jacob looked up and said, “I have only begun.” 

“If that’s the case,” said Klomp, “I’ll leave you 
alone. I see Jabez over in the field there. I think I’ll 
go and say good-morning to him.” 

“It sometimes takes you a longtime to say good- 
morning, father,” said Jacob. “Please don’t be too 
long about it this morning. ” 

“If you’re in any hurry I’ll not go at all,” replied 
Klomp. 

Jacob laughed heartily as he thought of his father’s 
last adventure with Jabez in the field, and consequent 
little riot at home on account of invited company, 
and said : “I am in no great hurry; if you are back in 
time for dinner it will be satisfactory. This letter in- 
forms me I might find an opportunity of airing my 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


321 


opinions in a little town a few miles away, and would 
like you to drive me there this afternoon, if con- 
venient. ” 

“111 be on hand,” replied Klomp, looking very sus- 
piciously at the papers; “but if you write at that rate 
till noon, 111 not promise you Pete 111 be able to haul 
them.” 

“I will not overload Pete,” was Jacob’s assuring 
reply, as he prepared for further work on the paper 
before him. 

Klomp left to say “good-morning” to his all the year 
round friend and next neighbor. He made his way 
through the field somewhat faster than he was accus- 
tomed to do when out on a looking-around tour, 
which Jabez was observing enough to notice, and said 
to himself, “Klomp means business this time, sure. 
I wonder what’s up now?” 

It slipped Klomp’s memory that he started out pur- 
posely to say “good-morning” to Jabez. His mind 
was active as his limbs, and he had thought over 
a great many things as he crossed that field, which 
evidently drove the original purpose far away. The 
thoughts that had claimed his attention for the last few 
seconds he bundled about as follows, and presented to 
Jabez, as he took more time to step the last few steps 
between them: 

“Yoii wouldn’t have to knock me down today, Jabez, 
to bring me to see 3 ^ou’re sometimes right where I’m 
wrong. ” 

Jabez looked at him, and smiled as he said, “I said 
to myself when I saw you coming, something’s up. 
What is it?” 

“Nothing in particular,” said Klomp, “only I’m 
about ready to wilt on the question you and I had it 

hot and heavy about the other day. ” 

21 


322 ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 

“I knew well/' said Jabez, “if you could hold 
out against Jake you were not the timber I took you 
for. " 

“I’m not the kind that stands out against anything 
that’s reasonable and just once I see it, ” replied Klomp. 

The two talked on in a more even tone than when 
last they met. They made no striking gestures like 
opposing factions at war. Klomp did not intimate to 
Jabez he had gone completely over, but there was an 
understanding that brought the friends closer together 
than heretofore. Klomp was home in time to drive 
Jacob to the town he had in view, and right proud he 
was, too, when he drove his horse as near as he could 
to the speaker’s open-air platform, and listened to 
Jacob tell the people gathered around certain facts 
concerning the destructive traffic they certainly had 
not realized, if they ever thought of, before. Jacob 
said “his business was not to aim particularly at the 
poor little rumseller; he could start in a dozen direc- 
tions from where he stood and lay his hand upon that 
little man.” He pointed in the direction of a near 
saloon, where the door was screened and the lower 
part of the window painted white, and said, as he pic- 
tured the man whose name was above the door in large 
letters : 

“That man is a viper, it is true, but it may be he is 
a viper unconscious of the venom of his sting; he is 
making money, and violating no law he knows of. The 
something in nearly every man that renders him ca- 
pable of nice discernment between right and wrong is 
dead in that man ; it is, therefore, cowardly to level 
blows at him. While the great fountain from which 
he is supplied is full to overflowing, you may count 
upon sufficient outlets to keep that mammoth reservoir 
in nice equilibrium; whether this or that particular' 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


3^3 


man sells over the counter or not — and there is not a 
level-headed man in the States incapable of seeing it. 
What good, do you think, would have resulted from 
inducing or compelling individual slaveholders to set 
free their slaves? While the law that protected men 
in holding others in bondage remained the same there 
would be forever men who would avail themselves of 
the opportunity of compelling their fellow-men to 
hand over to them the fruit of their toil. As unavail- 
ing, whatever means may be taken to cripple indi- 
vidual dealers, such a method would but cripple the 
individual aimed at. It is utterly useless to try to limit 
consumption while manufacture is unlimited, and it is 
plain a half dozen manufacturers could flood the whole 
country. ” 

Jacob looked around at his audience, and said, in a 
manner most fascinating: “Friends, we want to eradi- 
cate the curse. Suppress is, to us, a word so meaning- 
less, in the face of such injustice as we are compelled 
to witness daily, that we can find no room for it in our 
honest hearts. ” 

A few sent up the prolonged cheer. Many wore 
grave faces and silently moved away, having not yet 
weighed his words in such a way that the scale tipped 
in his favor; but it was evident they had never before 
been brought so face to face with the truths he so 
earnestly presented. 

After all was over Klomp drove a little closer to the 
speaker’s stand to accommodate Jacob with a clearer 
passage to the buggy, which not a few stood watching 
until out of sight, bearing away with it their plain 
farmer friend and the man who that day told them 
facts so in opposition to accepted custom and the gen- 
eral condition of things. 

Klomp never had much regard for horseflesh that 


324 ISAAC DkAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 

could not travel. When he found himself fairly be- 
yond the throng, he gave the bits one or two short 
jerks; his dumb friend understood as well as children 
understand the call to dinner, and away they spun 
over the road toward home. But, as the sun had set 
before they started, twilight thickened rapidly into 
darkness, and long before they reached home Klomp 
thought it wise to slacken their speed. He gave the 
reins a certain pull the horse well knew the meaning 
of, and slowly they sauntered on. Neither he nor 
Jacob had broken the silence on their journey from 
town till now. Fast travel is not conducive to concen- 
trated thought, and even less conducive to the ex- 
pression of thought, especially to the driver, when it 
is necessary to be on the lookout for holes in the road 
and deceptive little bridges, with sometimes a single 
plank. In some of the cornfields they passed the corn 
was husked, and in others cut and ready, all of which 
they could observe now that their gait permitted. 

From any position taken the dark forest was still a 
beautiful background, though stripped of its awful 
majesty when the Indian went out. That piece of 
wonderful mechanism called the savage, who, without 
books and what we are pleased to call intelligence, felt 
the forest was only his temporary home ; that across 
the valley of death lay the spirit home, so surely to be 
his — was more sublime than the forest he was driven 
from — sublimely soul-inspiring and beautiful as it is, 
with its massive trunks and graceful foliage, its end- 
less labyrinths and echoing dells. 

From a piece of wood Jacob thought blacker than 
the rest came the hungry cry of a coon, and from a 
cornfield a long distance from that wood went up the 
cry of a brother coon certainly faring better. Klomp 
chuckled to himself in his humorous way, poked Jacob 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


325 


in the ribs with his elbow, pointed in the direction of 
the cornfield and said, “That coon’s in clover.” 

“Yes,” said Jacob, and through the darkness rang 
out an honest manly laugh, “and he is calling to the 
coon not in clover, saying, ‘There’s good corn here — 
there’s good corn here.’ ’ 

“I’ll be blamed if I don’t believe they have a lan- 
guage of their own, Jake, and understand each other,” 
said Klomp, as he listened to the cry of hunger from 
the woods and then to the answer of plenty from the 
cornfield. 

“The animal in the cornfield is but a coon,” said 
Jacob, “and yet he is not insensible to his brother’s 
suffering. He does not wish to put the bonanza he 
struck all in his own stomach, but takes the time to 
call loudly and often to the one afar off and hungry. ” 

“And the other is coming right this way,” said 
Klomp, who was now as deeply interested in what was 
passing before him as a mathematician could be in his 
calculations or a religious in the voice he heard calling 
him to leave all and follow the Lamb. 

“Yes,” said Jacob, “but it will take him some time. 
He cannot cover all that ground in a few seconds. I 
think we can hardly wait for his coonship to take 
possession. ” 

The remark brought Klomp to realize their gait was 
unnecessarily slow. He gave Pete one gentle hint 
that he might step out faster and still go slowly, which 
hint Pete immediately put into execution. 

Neither the comments nor movements of the two 
reasonable animals had the least effect upon the two 
unreasonable ones. The coon in the midst of famish- 
ing surroundings still continued to bewail his condi- 
tion, and his friend “in clover” still kept calling him 
on. Klomp said again, referring to the coons; 


326 ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 

I 

‘Whether they’ve a language or not, Jake, we can’t 
be certain, but I’ve noticed all my life that they wind 
up at last in the cornfield. ’ ’ 

“You had some disagreeable assurances of that fact 
yourself, I’m sure,’’ said Jacob. 

“Indeed I had,’’ replied Klomp. “Many a time I 
spent half the night hunting them out of my fields. ’’ 
“Only to drive them to some other man’s field, I 
suppose,’’ said Jacob, who, after lending a still more 
attentive ear to the pleading and encouraging cries, 
continued: “They are capable of teaching us wonder- 
ful lessons, destructive though they may be at times. ’ ’ 
“We either haven’t or don’t take the time to listen 
to those lessons always,” said Klomp. “Besides, they 
have a way about them that puts a man in the humor 
of not listening ” 

Jacob laughed, as he replied: 

“I suppose it is annoying to a man to have some of 
his crop eaten by them after all his labor. But you 
are a good churchman, father; you believe a man’s 
full reward is not to be looked for here. ” 

“That’s what I believe,” said Klomp; “but a man 
often thinks very little about his belief until he’s re- 
minded of it by another man — and I find you pretty 
good dt reminders. ’ ’ 

Here Klomp stopped, drew down the corners of his 
mouth, and said: 

“You’re a good deal like your mother, I believe, 
Jake, and she’s a pretty sensible woman.” 

Jacob said nothing in direct return for the compli- 
ment, but as they rode on he said : 

“There are very few men who do not require some 
outside force, to put in motion the good that is in them. 
The fuel is within — the torch from without. That the 
man ever lived who had that fuel kindled without a 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE, 


327 

torch from the external world, I question. Also, the 
more fuel, or soul, a man has to set on fire, the more 
attentively will he listen, and the more will he make 
others feel some of that which is within him. The 
names of Plato and Shakespeare and Milton are for- 
ever before us, and our own Lincoln, who, with a 
master-stroke, proclaimed the slave a free man, be- 
cause they acknowledged the Power within them and 
courted the torch. They did not teach, and humanize, 
and elevate mankind without labor. When a coon 
can give us so forcible a lesson on duty as we have 
just heard, I think we must stop and listen, or ac- 
knowledge the soul within us is small. ” 

Jacob stopped talking only to think the more. They 
were nearing home, and Klomp liked to hear the 
sound of a human voice ; perhaps more for that reason 
than any other he said : 

“Then we have two lessons here in a nutshell, Jake. 
The one is help those that need it, and the other is 
work hard to do it. ” 

“Those lessons are not altogether new to us, father,” 
said Jacob, as he laughed aloud. “Still, we must admit 
we were given some very particular points to-night.” 

Jacob was certainly what Jabez said he was — “a 
good-natured, sensible fellow;” but in his most serious 
moments his father could provoke a laugh. 

He left the hungry coon in the woods, knowing well 
he would find the cornfield, for his brother coon would, 
not stop calling until the goal was reached. Though 
the time might be a little remote, he saw, too, as 
fairly on their feet the multitude among whom Ike 
was numbered. He felt sure there was fuel enough 
in this great country that, once touched by the no 
alcohol torch, to lay forever aside laws supposed to 
be just, but that are not. 


328 ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE, 

“Tm hungry myself as the old coon," said Klomp, 
as he dropped the reins at his own door. 

Mrs. Klomp had a pair of nice spring chickens ready, 
and he fell to work. Slower movements might be 
pronounced more graceful, but it can be said with 
truth the farmer generally has questions of more im- 
portance to deal with. The supply would hardly meet 
the demand did every farmer pose as a model of grace. 

Mrs. Klomp had many questions to ask concerning 
the trip, and her information was invariably received 
from Jacob, consequently Klomp had ample time to 
take note after his hunger was appeased. He had 
been sitting for some time looking from Jacob to Mrs. 
Klomp and back, when patience deserted him, and he 
said: 

“Jake, leave something on that bone for the dog." 

“Don’t be in a hurry, Ezekiel," said Mrs. Klomp, 
looking up ; “give those that were talking time to eat. " 

The clock in clear, mellow tones marked off another 
hour as the actors around that table arose; some of 
them feeling as individually responsible for the talents 
given them as the judge upon the bench could feel, 
who must pass sentence according to law, whether the 
law has been sifted until the word is synonymous 
with justice or not. 


CHAPTER XXX. 


While picking the chicken bones Jacob had found 
time to tell his mother he must go. The good woman 
was evidently much worked up over the announce- 
ment. Klomp was incapacitated for further merri- 
ment, and during the succeeding twenty-four hours 
the spirits of’ all under that roof were remarkably low. 
Jacob had been with them much longer than they at 
first dared hope he would stay. The coming and stay- 
ing were bright places in their lives, but the going 
brought a pang that, had he not come, they would 
not have felt. 

So wonderfully blended are joy and sorrow the one 
cannot be without the other. Like light and darkness, 
or heat and cold, as far as we know anything about 
them, they are alternate; when one comes the other 
goes. Somewhat resembling that part of the earth 
upon which the sun does not shine for months some 
travel on till the end is near with clouds overhanging, 
which phenomena is cleared away by the consoling 
promise — “Blessed are they that mourn, for they shall 
be comforted.” 

Mrs. Klomp helped Jacob pack his satchel, and care- 
fully stowed away in a corner that looked a little 
empty a roll of the best butter, which at that season 
could be done without a fear the doing so might be a 
cause for regret. 

Klomp, who stood back looking at the performance, 
said to J acob : 

“That’s the last thing any man in the world but 
yourself would think of taking. That place in the 

329 


330 


ISAAC DRAOUE, THE BtrCJCEYE. 


corner looks as if it was made for a bottle, so most 
every other man would think. ” 

“ It is the realizing that fact, even more keenly than 
when I left home, that is compelling me to pack so 
hurriedly,” answered Jacob, as he snapped the buckle 
on the last strap of the packed satchel. “Those who 
see the evil consequences of the drug, and the cure — 
which is prohibition — must set to work immediately. ” 

Klomp looked steadily at him but did not speak. 
Jacob felt his father did not oppose his plans, but was 
merely struggling with regrets that his son should 
spoil his own comforts to contend with an evil from 
which he had nothing to fear, and said : 

“You know I am better equipped than Tobias Lenk; 
he could not count upon a half dozen sympathizers in 
the whole state, while those who are in sympathy 
with the Prohibition cause are numerous, but need 
stirring up. ” 

Jacob had done excellent work with Ike and his 
father, and was now about to step into a larger field. 
He did not anticipate that every man he spoke to 
would be ready to place his vote in the right place, 
but such knowledge was only going to put more deter- 
mination in him. 

When he grasped his father’s extended hand in the 
last “good-by” he said: 

“That the people of this country should prohibit is 
but just, and it lies altogether with the man who has 
an object in view, whether that object is attained or 
not. ” 

As he hesitated a moment, he caught his father’s 
sharp look, and apologizingly said : 

“Relying upon the Almighty’s arm must always be 
understood. I’ll admit.” 

He was off. Klomp walked slowly away, feeling a 


ISAAC £)RA 0 C£, the BUCKEYE. 33I 

little sorry that during his long life he had so strongly 
advocated what his son so pronouncedly condemned, 
and what he himself did not longer hesitate to acknowl- 
edge an evil. He turned and looked after the out- 
going train till nothing could be seen but smoke, and 
said, as he stood watching : 

“I saw the day I little thought the wood lying 
around us in piles to dispose of as best we could would 
ever be put to such use as that. Jake is right in saying 
when men are very determined to do a thing it ’ill be 
done. ” 

While Klomp was thus discussing matters in his 
own mind, Jacob was going through a similar process, 
much after the following manner : 

“Homer’s voice is heard through ages, not merely 
because he lived and enjoyed God’s bounteous gifts 
along the streams by which he wandered, but because 
he grasped with his whole soul, worked with a deter- 
mined will, and put ammunition enough between the 
covers of his little book to carry. And I expect to find 
some one just as capable who will tell the American 
people that, with all their steady advancement in the 
right direction, there is still a great wrong to be made 
right. Posterity will read with disgust how our be- 
loved land was flecked with prisons — miniature Col- 
iseums, where poor helpless creatures were strangled, 
not by barbarians and Nubian lions in an open arena 
where there was some show for defense, but after 
being led along the path they followed by the golden 
chain of public opinion — after having been offered 
time and again, by superiors and dearest friends, the 
poison that makes madmen, and which with malice 
to no man they accepted — after having partaken of the 
bait that swells the revenue of Mother Country and 
her lawful emissaries of destruction — when, having 


332 ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE 

arrived at the point where reason is unbalanced or the 
body disabled, as is the case with Isaac Draque, they 
must from such time forth be unmercifully dealt with ; 
for such is the law. Not by barbarians and wild 
beasts, it is true; the sentence is pronounced by the 
flower of intellectual excellence, in science of govern- 
ment, and sanctioned by the voice of the governed, 
which removes the revolting and makes the barbarity 
more in accordance with the reflned tastes of the nine- 
teenth century.” 

The pictu’-e before him was too unbearable for fur- 
ther contemplation; he nervously shoved his satchel 
to one side, while the climax presented itself as 
follows : 

“We have not the show for arguing the justice of 
such proceedings the slaveholders had when the Scott 
decision aroused the indignation of justice-lovers 
throughout the North, and with our advanced civ- 
ilization such things cannot continue. Nor can we 
place the blame at the door of those we allow to scat- 
ter devastation; we are individually responsible, and 
our people slumbering. It is necessary to set this 
great body of voters seriously thinking, and that is all 
that is necessary. ” 

A sharp whistle and a slacking of speed announced 
they were nearing a stopping place. Jacob looked 
around to see the familiar streets of his own city, and 
his eyes shown with delight as, close beside the in- 
coming train, they rested upon the form of a friend 
and well-wisher. The two men walked along in close 
conversation, attracting no attention. 

The puffing of the locomotive that pulled in the 
car upon which Jacob came was heard at intervals as 
the big thing was trying to shift to another track, or 
back out of the way. And the shrill whistle of one 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


333 


nearing the station was the commanding way the 
dumb machine had of telling all to clear the track. So 
that one not accustomed to our earth and the things 
thereon might think those massive, swift-moving loco- 
motives real living beings ; while we who abide here, 
and are familiar with . the workings of machinery, know 
that the motive power, correctly speaking, is in the 
minds of men. It is true we call steam and water 
propelling forces; but behind all that lies the power 
that moves, that which directs — Intelligence. Just as 
back of this earthly propelling power centered in man 
there must be One who set that power in motion. 
Those who appreciate most fully the value of this 
immaterial power strive harder and aim higher after 
perfection, and it can be truly said of Jacob he was 
blessed with dear perception. 

He saw how man, as time wore on, looked over 
creation and drew to himself, out of its vast resources, 
material and power which he utilized for the benefit 
of great numbers. He saw the river dammed and the 
mill constructed where there was never one before. 
He saw steam gathered into a cylinder and rushing 
over miles of country, carrying with it its cargo of 
human life. But such progress is not in his line of 
march; he is striving after points whose summits are 
crowned with truth and justice, and, like the Ike of 
former years, he threw himself into the coming strug- 
gle for the attainment of both. 

He and his friend carried on their conversation for 
several hours after they reached his house. That what 
they had to say and were about to do would affect 
future generations very materially for their good, 
Jacob had not a doubt. 

Doubters are always poor workers. The shadow of 
a doubt drags a man down ; he never finds himself an 


334 ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 

inch ahead of the starting place. Had Columbus 
doubted land was beyond the great ocean he cast him- 
self upon, his faint heart could never push ahead and 
rise above what appeared to the whole world insur- 
mountable obstacles ; he could never quell the mutiny 
of dissatisfied mariners, who, discouraged, saw nothing 
but a watery grave. 

Klomp arrived home after seeing Jacob off, strode 
into the house in a dejected manner, and sat in Jacob’s 
easy chair as if hoping to receive some comfort from 
that now that Jacob was not there. 

Mrs. Klomp came in to take a seat in another place 
that had been particularly comfortable when she had 
Jacob to look at and listen to. Her eyes were swollen, 
and Klomp knew well how she had spent the time 
while he was away. He was afraid he might betray 
some weakness himself, and did not venture to say a 
word for several minutes. When silence became in- 
tolerable, he said, looking nervously across the room at 
Mrs. Klomp: 

‘ ‘ I never thought rightly of all Draque had to suffer 
till a short time past. We never had any great trouble 
in our family, while Draque has been punished all 
along. When Amanda died he was ready to go under, 
and then Bill was brought home to him riddled with 
bullets. Mrs. Draque couldn’t live after that, so his 
home was broken up ; and now I believe Ike and his 
family is a greater heart-break to him than it all. ” 

He turned his eyes from Mrs. Klomp to the table 
beside him, where his right hand rested, and watched 
his forefinger as he moved it backward and forward in 
making some inextricable pattern, that, after all his 
trouble, was only a blank, and said : 

“Jake thinks that Ike and the like of him are more 
to be pitied than blamed, after all the trouble and 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


335 


expense the country’s at building prisons and hiring 
hangmen. ” 

Mrs. Klomp was one of the best of women, who did 
not bother herself with matters that had nothing to 
do with home comforts, and was queen of what man- 
kind are never tired of showing up as woman’s sphere ; 
but had she been able that day to talk right to the 
point like Peggy, she would not have lowered herself 
in Klomp’s estimation one whit. She could talk 
fluently and with great ease and sense about the con- 
sistency and adaptability, or advantage, of this and 
that thing in the prospective about the house and 
neighborhood. In fact, there was such a charm about 
her words and her sense such that Klomp thought he 
saw straight through it — “how Jake got his way of 
making people see things another man couldn’t.” 

But laws of the State or country a woman had no 
business meddling with, and where she had no busi- 
ness, Mrs. Klomp had no desire to investigate ; conse- 
quently her reply to what Klomp said could not be 
expected to have much weight. She smoothed back 
her silver locks as she looked around her tidy, com- 
fortable sitting room, and said : 

“It takes Peggy to get roused up over such things 
as that, but I suppose the woman has reasons that I 
haven’t. Poor thing!” 

Mr. and Mrs. Klomp sat there, having nothing fur- 
ther to say. There had come a time in their lives 
when Mrs. Klomp knew nothing about and could not 
be interested in what claimed Klomp’s whole atten- 
tion; and “Jake at the bottom of it, too,” thought 
Klomp. 


CHAPTER XXXL 


On a cold drizzling evening several days later Klomp 
came into the house, saying to Mrs. Klomp : 

“It’s been a broken day and I might as well end it 
visiting. I’ve been so much taken up with Jake and 
what he had to say I haven’t seen Jabez for a while 
past.” 

He picked up the hat he had laid down and was 
moving on when Mrs. Klomp said : 

“Your supper.” 

“It’s a fact,” said Klomp, stopping, “however in- 
terested a man may be in a thing, he mustn’t forget to 
eat. Jabez and I tried that once and it didn’t work 
well. ” 

The meal was dispatched with few words, and Klomp 
felt he was at liberty. Jabez’ thoughtful face was 
always a study, and, according to Draque, “Peggy had 
more grit than a dozen women. ” As Klomp entered, 
he saw there was an expression on both faces altogether 
new to him, well as he knew them, and which made 
him feel he was intruding. Jabez quietly handed him 
a chair, saying : 

“We always expressed our thoughts to each other 
freely, though often we disagreed, and we had serious 
questions to contend with that cost many dear friends 
their lives ; but the hardest blow I ever felt, Klomp, 
has been struck me now. ” 

He faltered, and staggered back. Klomp was stand- 
ing beside the chair; he offered him the strong hand 
of a true friend, with sympathy in the grasp, and 

336 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


337 


wishing to relieve him from further details, said, 
“I heard about Ruth.” 

“Oh; we’d become reconciled to Ruth’s misfor- 
tune,” shrieked Peggy, “hard as it was; at least we 
said, ‘Thy will be done;’ but how can we bow to this. 
It is not God’s will. It is not God’s will.” Jabez 
handed Klomp a slip of paper that had reached him 
only an hour earlier. It was the message that con- 
tained the happenings of the early morning, and that 
brought desolation to their door. Meg was dead, and 
such confusion reigned about Ike’s home, no one 
thought of them before. Klomp sank into insig- 
nificance in the presence of the great sorrow; he felt, 
how trivial anything he could say must be. How 
could he offer consolation to Jabez, who had always 
been the consoler, and so strong. 

The drizzling rain that had so broken the day for 
Klomp was over. The dark cloud that hung over the 
earth like, a pall from early morning was rent in 
a dozen places, and through every rent could be read 
a message from Above. Nature stepped in as consoler, 
and sang to those three her everlasting hymn of praise. 
There was something touchingly sympathetic in the 
low moan of the wind. It did not bring with it the 
softness of May, or the odoriferous breath of June, 
but flung itself against the walls of the desolate home 
and moaned like some live creature that had come to 
offer consolation, and because it could not find entrance, 
wept. 

The bright red clouds hung thick over a piece of 
wood Jabez called his own, and told the story of how 
the sun was not far below, while near the horizon a 
spot was nether blue, and there, as from the begin- 
ning, at that hour and that season, shone the evening 

star. Jabez always loved the stars, and in his younger 
22 


338 ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 

and more poetic days, which were also his hard- 
working days, had said, “they came to see me before 
the chores were done in the evening, and did not bid 
me farewell until they saw me well at them again in 
the morning. ’’ 

As he looked out the sight of the star, combined 
with the pleading of the wind softened him into resig- 
nation; he lifted up his voice laden with the refrain 
of all nature, and said, “God be praised.” 

Klomp’s full heart could now in words give utter- 
ance to a little of what it felt, and he said, “I said to 
Mrs. Klomp before I started how I never thought 
rightly about what Draque had to suffer, and though 
we’ve both had ups and downs, you’ve been a good 
deal like me, Jabez, in this respect till now.’ 

“Yes,” said Jabez, “but I had hoped to die seeing 
Meg left over the family that need her so much. ” 

He moved closer to the table, opened the family 
Bible, turned to where he thought the words suited his 
case, and read aloud. He closed the Bible and said, 
“We’re going to Ike’s, Klomp, only we’re waiting on 
the train ; we have about three quarters of an hour to 
make it, and I think if Jess has the horse ready we’ll 
be moving that way. ” 

“Let me not keep you,” said Klomp, rising.” 

“I’m glad you dropped in,” said Peggy, “you can 
let the neighbors know; we wouldn’t like to go and 
not a friend know of our trouble. ” 

Mrs. Klomp’s eyes opened wide as she saw Klomp 
step in so soon after leaving, and move solemnly 
around as in a funeral march. He turned over a book 
or two, searching for the Bible that was not always 
before him as before Jabez. Something said to him 
very forcibly that he had lived a long time without 
trouble, and so had Mrs. Klomp, but whatever might 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


339 


be going to happen, “he hoped Jake would be 
spared. " 

Mrs. Klomp scanned him closely, and said, “You’re 
back very soon, I didn’t expect you for a couple of 
hours yet.” 

“Yes,” said Klomp, “I’m back soon,” and then con- 
tinued, “there’s an end to everything, I’m beginning 
to realize, for the first time I came away from Jabez 
with a heavy heart. ” 

“I wish Jake was here to cheer you up a bit,” said 
Mrs. Klomp, with a sigh. She did not ask why his 
heart was heavy, her own was heavy, and she thought 
she had the secret. 

“Under present circumstances he’d only make my 
heart the heavier,” said Klomp, “telling me what men 
should do and they’re not doing, the more so, being as 
I have to count myself among those that haven’t worked 
the right way. ” 

Klomp proceeded to tell the tale of death, the tale 
no human being, arrived at the age of maturity, has 
not heard in connection with some dear friend, many 
more than once, and every time the tale is told there 
must be some aching, bleeding hearts. But circum- 
stances that throw the horrible around death are 
invariably nursed in alcohol and malt; that, Klomp, 
though blind so long, could now see as clearly as 
Jacob. 

Mrs. Klomp was startled by the news, and ex- 
claimed, “That’s sudden; for she was alive three days 
ago!” She then proceeded to question concerning par- 
ticulars. 

“I can give no particulars,” said Klomp. “The 
paper read, Meg is dead, and if Jabez knew more he 
didn’t say, nor did I question. ” 

That settled, there came thoughts about the funeral. 


340 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


Although Jabez had said nothing about that, Klomp 
felt he could be more certain in his presumptions, and 
said in reply to Mrs. Klomp’s questions concerning 
where she would be buried, “They’ll take her to 
Draque’s burying place, likely, or Jabez may lay 
her beside the spot he’s marked out for himself and 
Peggy, for Ike has no lot in town, and isn’t likely to 
have.” 

Two days later, in the evening, Meg’s grave was 
ready. Jabez brought her as near home as he could, 
and the many years seemed as nothing since he helped 
Klomp mark off the lot given to the dead. 

“Meg looked peaceful,” the neighbors said, though 
how she could look so happy leaving Ruth many could 
not understand. But why not? The still, small voice 
that spoke to the Red man not a century before, on 
that very spot, and pointed beyond the clouds, could 
be heard as well by her. The last vision that passed 
before her fleeting soul may have been stamped with 
the peace of heaven, and left its image there. 

What aroused curiosity and excited indignation 
among the townspeople was the fact Ike was not at 
the funeral. Some one ventured to ask, “Is he sick?” 
which a friend of both families answered with the 
single word, “No.” Dark scowls could be seen on 
many an honest face, as the word was passed around, 
and many a law-abiding citizen felt, if he could only 
lay his hands upon him he would give him what he 
justly deserved. Only Jacob Klomp, off in his own 
city, and Jabez, the one man who had most reason to 
feel revengeful, and possibly one other, who, though 
not a relative, stood very near the grave, were pre- 
pared to say, “the blame is ours.” 

Jabez and Draque waited until the last shovel full 
was placed on the grave, just as they had when poor 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


341 


John Strand was laid in a grave not two rods away. 
Draque shook his head and said to Jabez as he stepped 
closer to his side, as the two moved away, and Draque 
was about to stop awhile at the graves of mother and 
Amanda and Bill : 

“I always had a warm feeling for John Strand, and 
could forgive him ; but father and all as I am, it’s a 
hard struggle for me to say I forgive Ike. ” 

“I forgive him,” answered Jabez, without a tremor 
in his voice. 

Draque stood for some time looking at the three 
grass covered mounds. The occupant of each grave 
had twined around his heart particular claims of love, 
and all had been severed — one, so many years ago. 
He was to be Jabez’ guest for a few hours; it was in- 
evitable, trains never come but on schedule time. He 
hung back as if loath to enter the house, and when 
Jabez moved faster, said, “I feel my family has brought 
great trouble upon you, Jabez.” 

“We all as unknowingly helped to bring trouble 
upon you,” answered Jabez. 

Draque did not understand, and looked at him in as- 
tonishment. Jabez did not give him time to rally from 
his surprise to ask “How,” but said, “When we cast 
our votes with the Republican party we signed Bill’s 
death-warrant. ’ ’ • 

“But some things can’t be helped,” said Draque, not 
satisfied he had just reason for feeling Ike could in the 
least be exonerated from blame. 

“And some other things can’t be helped a bit more,” 
said Jabez, taking his arm to help him up the steps. 
They were seated but a short time in the room where 
Ike’s presence so often lent a charm, when Jabez said, 
“You were the first man in the place to go back on 
drink, Draque. ’ ’ 


342 


ISAAC DRAQUr,. tHE BtJCEEYE. 


“Yes,” said Draque, very solemnly, but I didn’t do 
it in time. ’ ’ 

“Like myself,” said Jabez, “you couldn’t do a thing 
before you felt you were right. I voted a ticket or two 
that helped keep the chains tight on the slave, not 
knowing I was doing wrong. ’ ’ 

Jabez accompanied Draque back to the city to see 
again the home Meg left, and the children. 

Mr. and Mrs. Klomp spent every evening with Peggy 
while Jabez was away, though they were very unlike 
all other evenings spent there. Peggy didn’t give up 
to uncontrolled grief, but was extremely quiet. Mrs. 
Klomp had very little to say, and Klomp not much. 
In answer to something asked about Ruth, Peggy said, 
“I will keep Ruth while I live, and am able to care 
for her, and expect Jabez will bring her back with him. ’ ’ 

But Ruth clung to grandfather Draque, and would 
not leave him. Draque caressingly gave her hair the 
same stroke he had accustomed himself to, and assured 
her he would part with all he possessed sooner than 
with her. So whatever became of the other children, 
Ruth was to see fair play while grandfather Draque 
lived, at least. 

Sometime after Meg’s funeral, a very pointed article 
denouncing the liquor traffic appeared in a daily; it 
was hooted at unmercifully by prominent men, and 
pillars of law and order. Some surmised the editor 
was paid a good round sum for the insertion ; for the 
people were hardly ready to think an editor could so 
far overlook his own interests as to side with the insig- 
nificant few, who agitated the overthrow of a traffic 
that was such a solid factor to the country in the shape 
of revenue. The writer of said article was in all prob- 
ability Jacob Klomp, for on its face it bore evidence of 
being the production of a far-seeing, intelligent man. 


ISAAC BRAQUE, THE feUCKEYE. 


343 


The editor also proved to be a man who was not to 
be influenced by bribes, but like Garrison, determined 
to stand on his own feet, though all the world was 
against him. 

Some of Meg’s friends who had attended the funeral 
service at the house, and had also read the article 
Jacob took such pains to make clear, had their sympa- 
thies aroused, though from an entirely different stand- 
point, and were going to prove themselves his 
right-bower. One pale faced, earnest looking man, 
well up in years, who had known Ike for a quarter of 
a century, or before he severed his connection with 
the lawyer who taught him “the law,” was decidedly 
the originator of the agitation movement from said 
point of view. This good-hearted man placidly looked 
into his possessions to see how comfortably he was 
circumstanced, and consequently how independent he 
was ; and suggested to a close friend, whose nest was 
as well feathered as his own, that as both were out of 
the reach of want, with no one leaning upon them un- 
able to provide for themselves, they might turn their 
attention toward fighting the liquor traffic. This they 
decided to do, even if they could not just then for the 
reading of such pointed, and in all truth, such consis- 
tent articles as were then going round, bring them- 
selves to believe the blood of the strangled drunkard 
cried aloud to heaven for vengeance, just as the blood 
of one mad from rabies would cry, if pronounced by 
intelligent voters unfit to live, and slain after having 
buried his teeth in the flesh of his nearest kin. 

Abel Beech was not blown into the state to suck the 
best of every flower, and then to be blown out ; but 
was a fixture, born then and there expecting to die. 
The growth and prosperity of the state and country 
depended upon him in just the way the growth and 


344 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


prosperity of states and countries depend upon the 
upright, honest individual everywhere — there is no true 
growth without them. 

While comfortable, he could not be looked upon as 
a man of great wealth ; such men have hardly the 
patriotism Abel had. It has been said long ago, 
“riches take wings and fly.” Sometimes they do, and 
sometimes they take with them their possessors ; they 
transplant them to most congenial spots where the cries 
of the poor and oppressed never reach their ears. 
There was no hope for Abel ever being so transplanted, 
nor had he such a wish ; he must in his own state, and 
among his own people, exert himself for the best until 
the end. He had long watched the prison doors closed 
on criminals of a certain class, and had deplored the 
fact, but as yet, with not a particle of feeling in him 
akin to that in Jacob Klomp. He saw no injustice 
done the physical wreck stretched before him on the 
street, absolutely unable to rise, yet being rapped 
over the head and shins by a club in the hands of 
a policeman. 

Abel was the Pharisee and that man the Publican, 
and he thanked God he was not like him. But with a 
tender heart, and almost fatherly affection, he turned to 
the ragged, shivering, half-starved little child of the man 
before him, and said, “I will help you if I can, and there 
is no other way to save you, but to take from your 
parents or guardians the article they drink to excess” 
— ^he stopped at the word excess, rumpled and smoothed 
a paper he held in his hand, and said: “Other men 
have thrown overboard altogether the word excess, and 
very intelligent men they are, too; but it has sounded 
in my ears so long I can hardly familiarize them to 
other words. The appeal for help from the thousands 
upon thousands of children should be listened to as 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


345 


attentively as was the cry of the slave, and their 
wrongs ought to speak as loud to listening humanity. 
There’s one cheery aspect about the thing, we know 
the remedy is certainly in the hands of the people.” 

He drew a long breath, and said: “There’s little 
Ruth Draque, crippled for life by a blow from her 
father, who was, until late, as intelligent and sensible 
as any man living, and when we see such from men of 
his stripe, what are we to expect from the poor and 
ignorant? Shall we let them go ahead and maim and 
cripple their own children, and not lift a finger to pre- 
vent it, only imprison and hang and the like, after the 
deed is done? I think such time is past.” 

So it happened Abel Beech enlisted under his banner 
scores, who, with him, saw the necessity of a new party 
with a new name, just as years before other men saw 
the necessity of a new party, when the best element 
of both parties would merge in order to demonstrate 
to the world that Justice shall reign. 

Broken-hearted Ike had again been brought face to 
face with a terrible calamity. He did not realize until 
long after the funeral that Meg was dead ; experienced 
and intelligent as he was, he was as incapable of re- 
alizing facts at times as was plain, simple-minded 
John Stran4, when want stared the family in the face, 
and little Tim was stretched before him a corpse. 

Abel Beech met Ike about a fortnight after the fu- 
neral, and did not think it worth while to speak, but 
gave him a crushing look of contempt, which the 
lawyer and soldier, and, above all, the man, was not 
slow to understand. A spirit as proud as ever he pos- 
sessed arose for one moment in resentment, and then 
sank to the lowest ebb of despair. 

The paper with the much-abused article concerning 
the liquor traffic came under Jabez’ observation; it 


346 ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 

suited him exactly, for he saw the justice of the 
thrusts. He read and re-read, and, like Tobe, laid it 
away in his coat-pocket for further use. He handed 
it to Klomp some days later, with his finger on the 
piece he would like him to read. 

Klomp brightened as he finished, with a vision of 
his son by his side, and said, “I’ll be blamed if it’s not 
just like Jake. I’ve listened to him so long I’d know 
it among a thousand. ’ ’ 

“Whoever he may be he knows well what he’s talk- 
ing about,’’ said Jabez. 

‘ ‘ He’s got it into his head right stiff, ’ ’ replied Klomp, 
“that some day in the future there’ll be as clean a 
sweep made of the liquor business as there was of the 
slave. ’ ’ 

“He’s right,’’ said Jabez, “and more will realize 
after the sweep is made, a greater evil has been put 
under foot. ’ ’ 

“It beats all,’’ said Klomp, very thoughtfully, “how 
long it sometimes takes a man to see through a thing 
that’s clear as day.’’ 

“One thing at a time appears to be as much as a 
great people can well handle,’’ said Jabez. 

“I’ll be bound if it doesn’t look that way,’’ replied 
Klomp. 

“The saying was always a stronghold with Tobe that 
one good man couldn’t do all the good that was to be 
done in the world,’’ said Jabez. 

“I couldn’t expect Jake would do as much good as 
Washington or Lincoln,’’ said Klomp, “but even they 
couldn’t be more earnest or bent on doing right than 
he is.’’ 

“Earnestness in a man impresses a people more 
than anything else,’’ replied Jabez. “It’s something 
there can be no make-believe about ; plain people can 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


347 


detect the want of it, often more readily than those 
that boast of great knowledge, and when once they 
see it’s not in him, a man may as well stop.” 

“Yes,” said Klomp, whose face was glowing with 
enthusiasm; “no matter how fine the words a man 
may use, he can’t make much out of them, if every 
inch of him isn’t in what he says.” 

Jabez took the paper he guarded with such care from 
Klomp and replaced it in his pocket. A shadow flitted 
before him, and he bowed his head. Sorrow had 
claimed him for her own that moment. Dead Meg 
had not been laid away long enough to not claim an 
overwhelming part of her father’s heart. As he 
thought of her and her struggling family, his bowed 
head and stooped shoulders were in striking contrast 
to Klomp ’s erect form. 

Nothing further was necessary to tell Klomp that, 
though Jabez was the first to open the conversation 
which passed between them, he might now be press- 
ing the concerns of the outside world too closely upon 
his friend, who for the time was- so surely absorbed 
with his own, did he attempt to say more. He rubbed 
the pile on his slouch hat against the grain, then 
rubbed it back in place — all the time he felt a lump in 
his throat, and knew how unable he was to speak a 
word of comfort suitable to the time, for Jabez was 
thinking of Meg. 


CHAPTER XXXIL 


Another year has rolled away, and in the city home 
Jabez and Peggy so often look into in spirit, with such 
heavy hearts, Draque was trying to please and enter- 
tain Ruth. 

He sat in Meg’s rocker with the child on his knee, 
long after the other children, forgetful of all trouble, 
were enjoying sweet sleep. Ruth was uneasy, and 
pouted because grandfather suggested she should retire 
with the rest. Draque repented the suggestion, and 
said, “Don’t mind it. I’ll sit up half the night if it ’ill 
be any comfort to you, Ruth. ’ ’ 

After a half hour or so Ruth became quiet, and set- 
tled her head on the old man’s shoulder. Draque said 
to her softly, “Ruth, you’re sleepy now.’’ 

“Oh, no! I’m not sleepy,’’ answered Ruth; “I can’t 
sleep in that room any more, ’ ’ and the shudder that 
passed over her frame went into Draque ’s. 

“Why can’t you sleep in that room?’’ asked her 
grandfather, while the cold chill that still clung to 
him and made his teeth chatter, reminded him of the 
ague chills of long ago. 

“Because I see mamma there, crying all the time,” 
answered Ruth. 

“You had a dream, child,” said Draque as he drew 
her closer to him. 

He could not insist further upon Ruth to go to her 
bed ; she might rest where she could, and where she had 
chosen, near to him. His soul was filled with every 
perplexity. He reluctantly admitted he was encom- 
passed with bitterness as with a garment, and left in 

34S 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


349 


his old age with not a pillar in his family upon which 
he could lean. The son who in youth and strong 
manhood was so promising, proved the dagger that 
stabbed him deepest. To a certain extent he blamed 
himself that Ike was what he was; but as the same 
color has many different shades, so he had not reached 
the pinnacle upon which Jacob Klomp and Jabez 
rested, which made his condition the more bitter. 

Were his son the hopeless victim of gout or fatty 
degeneration, he would submit, as he always had sub- 
mitted, to the inevitable. He would undertake to put 
Ike’s children on their own feet, and would part with 
his farm in an endeavor to allay the torture of Ike’s 
malady until the end came. Had not those afflicted as 
already mentioned, their life and health in their own 
hands, as surely as Ike, or did Ike with any more cer- 
tain knowledge of what he was doing throw his away, 
were questions that never came before Draque for 
serious consideration, as they had come to Jacob 
Klomp. The prevailing opinion, that will should be 
able to counteract the deadly effects of a sometimes 
slow, but always sure poison, had fastened itself upon 
Draque and left in a strange mental position the 
man who told Ike years before, “it did mighty bad 
work. ’ ’ 

While he felt the blame was in a measure his, he did 
not feel it in just the way he would feel blamable had 
he given to the thoughtless lad a blunderbuss he knew 
kicked, and sent him out to hunt rabbits, knowing the 
one at the butt end was in almost as great danger as 
the thing at the muzzle, had the boy come home from 
the hunt crippled for life. 

Draque ’s spirits were surely at a very low ebb, but 
despair, the damning crown of woe, he never allowed 
to enter. The thought of a neighbor whose family 


350 ISAAC BRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 

was prosperous, all doing the right way, and who, 
though twenty years younger than himself, was unable 
to move, being afflicted with dropsy, turned his atten- 
tion somewhat from his own trouble. He drew a 
long breath that almost awakened Ruth, and said, half 
aloud : 

“Anyway, it must be a deep hole a man doesn’t 
try to get out of. I’ll pull through the best I can with 
Ruth and the rest of the family till spring opens up. 
I never liked the short, dark days for making a change 
of any kind. ’ ’ 

Again he looked at the sleeping child in his arms, 
and said, ‘ ‘ Poor thing ; If I could only lay you straight 
what a comfort there ’d be in that. The hump growing 
on that little back makes my heart sorer than any 
trouble I could take about Ike, for he has the years, 
and ought to know what’s what, while you’re innocent 
of any knowledge of the hard world that’s before you. 
I’d thought all along that at this age I’d be able to 
lay down the oars, but I see while I’ve life I must pull 
out against the tide that’s carrying everything the 
Braque’s have away. To begin, I must find a place 
for you, Ruth, for my old arm is giving out, and I’ll 
not take you to where you’ll see your mother crying 
all the time, either.’’ 

He crossed the room with Ruth in his arms, his 
swaying gait indicating his burden was heavier than 
he should carry, and laid her on his own bed. For 
awhile time wore slowly on ; one dark day succeeded 
another until the shortest came, and then Braque loved 
to watch the lengthening. How each morning the sun 
rose a little earlier, and each evening set a little later, 
just as it did when mother looked after the house, and 
Bill did the chores about the farm, and Ike came home 
to see them sometimes. 


ISAAC DRAQUE, the BUCKEYE. 35 1 

Concerning family affairs, the winter, as well as the 
winter before, were repetitions of winters for awhile 
past, only Meg was not there “to help put things to 
rights. ’ ’ Draque saw he was better able to manage 
than he had thought he would; for the broken-hearted 
look Meg wore so long before she died, and particularly 
after Ruth was crippled, was harder for the tender 
hearted old man to witness than to perform the extra 
labor her death made for him a necessity. 

He now seldom begged Ike to try to do or be any- 
thing but the enigma he was to his father and the bulk 
of mankind. Sometimes a match for the most pro- 
found reasoner in town, and again, as surely an im- 
becile as he from whose countenance the God given 
faculty — intellect — never shone. At other times, and 
for reasons unaccountable, he thought he had executive 
ability enough to run his own house, which was the 
most provoking of all his moods, and which com- 
pelled Draque to be on the alert, looking after him. 
Draque had not retired after putting Ruth in bed, 
when Ike came in ; his father saw at a glance he had 
nothing to fear, for Ike was in the sleepy stage of the 
disorder, and was making his way the best he, could to 
his room. Draque watched him while he could see him, 
and then listened till he was satisfied he was down, 
and said, loud enough to be heard through the hall 
from end to end; 

“You’re a wreck, Ike, and home-made; you didn’t 
have to go out in the world to meet the temptation as 
we often hear it preached. ’ ’ 

His face wore a puzzled look, and he slowly shook 
his head as he continued, “But who’d have thought 
with the wise head that was on you it would ever come 
to this. ’’ 

Jacob Klomp would have told him, a wise head has 


352 ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 

nothing to do with the effects of poison taken into the 
system, but that different degrees of constitutional 
strength will oftentimes cause its workings to vary. 
But Jacob was off in another city, and the good he was 
doing would never have a bearing upon the household 
where Draque presided, at least while the old man 
lived, which fact no one regretted more deeply than 
Jacob. Ike, the friend of his boyhood, whose heart 
bled for the oppressed, and whose intellect and will 
never stopped short with self as a consideration, was 
a brand beyond his picking. Regardless of what others 
thought, Ike still considered himself very capable of 
doing business, and the manner in which he manipu- 
lated the wealth he had accumulated during the pros- 
perous part of his life, was nobody’s business but 
his own The vulture in human form that is forever 
on the lookout for an opportunity to enrich himself by 
taking the advantage of those driven to the wall, had 
his shrewd eyes leveled on Ike. 

His larger practice was as certainly a thing of the 
past as was . slavery and the civil war, and money he 
must have; therefore he did precisely what Tobias 
Lenk did, parted with his possessions for a small con- 
sideration which the lender saw he would not be able 
to meet when due. Thus, the beautiful house that 
was the home and shelter of Ike’s family, passed into 
other hands for less than half its value. In addressing 
the people of that place years before, when endeavor- 
ing to impress upon them the fact that though Wash- 
ington had possessed slaves there would yet be no 
slaves for any man in the country to own, Ike had said : 

“One fact may overstep another fact, just as 
one circle may describe another circle indefinitely, yet 
leave untouched all the beautiful and perfect in the 
circle first described. ’ ’ 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


353 


But it would take Jacob Klomp to show those same 
people now that Ike had some claim upon their respect. 
The last acts of a man’s life determine his worth, at 
least from the moral standpoint ; as has been proved, 
even from the penitent thief, until now, and that Ike 
was unrepenting day after day was about the only 
thing his townspeople saw. Until they could see that 
neither reform nor repent, but get well, were the cor- 
rect words, their attitude toward him must necessarily 
be very severe. 

When spring came and they were forced to leave the 
city, Draque returned thanks to God that the farm was 
still his own, and he was able to provide a shelter for 
Ike’s four children. He thought, too, necessity was 
compelling Ike to realize his true condition, and if 
such proved the case, what a blessing their loss must 
be; for he would part with his farm, as with every- 
thing else “to see Ike the man he was.” The things 
he had left with Peggy to stow away were brought to 
light, and the farm house fitted up again. Hiram 
Blank had taken a great deal of Draque ’s money in 
his time, and he lived longer in a log cabin than some 
of his neighbors. He said to Jabez, as the two were 
looking around : 

“I’m glad enough I stopped where I did. If it 
hadn’t been for you, Jabez, I wouldn’t have a roof 
over my head any more than Ike. ” 

Jabez merely bowed his head in assent. Draque 
continued : 

“A thing that keeps me up wonderfully well is, Ike’s 
young enough yet to make up for all he’s lost. ” He 
nervously turned over a clod with his foot, and said, 
“I’ll wager there’s as much law in his head as ever 
there was.” 

Jabez very solemnly answered, “It’s not impossible, 

23 


354 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THF BUCKEYE. 


and vou couldn’t wish it more than I do, Draque. The 
children are as dear to me as to you, but it would be 
wise, I think, to not count too sure upon it. ” 

Jabez knew from Draque’s look he did not get the 
idea he wished he should, and said in explanation, 
“When the fever is bad in those parts, Draque, we 
sometimes hear of a man getting well, after two or 
three doctors said he must die, and sometimes they 
say a man is not bad at all and that man dies. I take 
it it’s the same with Ike’s trouble ; if he’s not 
bothered any more, some change that you nor I nor the 
doctors know anything about, has taken place. ” 

“I see,” said Draque, almost as puzzled as ever, “a 
little while ago I hadn’t a hope, but since Ike’s lost 
everything, he seems more like himself. ” 

“I believe with you that as far as Ike’s will has any- 
thing to do with it he’d be all right, but I look at it 
this way,” said Jabez. “A man may will to not have 
malaria, but if it’s once gotten into his system, will 
hasn’t much power over the thing. You know of the 
score of men that went from those parts to work in 
the neighborhood of the Maumee River some time ago, 
how many of them were laid out helpless with malaria, 
and some others came home as well as they went? 
Now, whatever it is that fastens itself upon some and 
leaves others untouched is the puzzle. The singular 
thing is, a man may seem well for weeks, and even 
months, when he’s laid out again as flat as ever, though 
far away from the place where he contracted his trouble ; 
and it’s just so with this drink curse.” 

There was a long interval of silence, after which 
Jabez said very earnestly, “I’d advise you to keep 
a tight hand on what’s yours, Draque. ” 

The wind that blew across the flelds, and the thou- 
sand things that spoke to him from all sides, with 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


355 


voices as youthful as when first he heard them, some- 
times made Draque forget he was the old man he 
was, with Ike’s children to care for instead of his 
own. 

The north lot was separated from the garden and 
orchard that surrounded Draque’s house by a creek, 
and along its banks Ruth loved to play. The whole 
place delighted her ; she had no longing for the city 
home she left, and her grandfather was satisfied. 
The water in the creek journeyed over pebbles, and 
swayed the water-cress growing between. Ruth 
thought the water would break the tender-looking 
plants, and spent a great deal of her time holding one 
and then another plant upright with a little stick. 
Sometimes she would be for hours the solitary human 
in the close neighborhood of the stream where every- 
thing pointed heavenward. The cow-slips flecked its 
banks, turned their yellow faces to the golden sun, and 
with it hymned His praise who made them all, while 
the little blue-bell bowed its head in listening adora- 
tion. 

Klomp came unobserved upon the child one morning 
when she was most deeply interested in her favorite 
bunch of water-cress, holding a piece of board before 
it so the water would not carry it away. He asked, 
“What are you about, Ruth?” 

His voice was not a familiar one ; it startled Ruth ; 
she lost her balance, and fell into the creek. 

Klomp picked her out instantly, and said, “You’re 
scared, child, but not hurt; there’s not water enough 
there to drown you. ” 

“I wasn’t afraid of the water,” answered Ruth. 

“I see,” said Klomp, “it’s me you’re afraid of.” 

“I’m not afraid of anybody,” coolly answered the 
child. 


356 ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 

“I came on yon too quick, that’s it,” said Klomp, 
“and all I’m afraid of is, you’ll get a cold from the 
dip; the water is a little too chilly yet to be pleasant.” 

Klomp accompanied Ruth to the house, and said to 
Draque, “I picked Ruth out of the creek.” 

Ruth turned a pair of indignant eyes upon him, but 
said nothing. 

Draque looked at Ruth’s wet garments, and Klomp 
said, “I’d be sorry if she’d take any cold out of it, the 
more so as I frightened her into it. ” 

“I hope no harm ’ill come of it. I don’t borrow 
trouble of that kind,” said Draque. “If she’d lived 
here all her life you might roll her in that creek and 
it wouldn’t hurt her, but I can’t say what effect it will 
have on a city girl. ” 

Here he turned to Ruth and said, “Eh, Ruth?” 

“I know it would be a lonesome place if anything 
happened Ruth, ” said Klomp, imagining he knew all 
Draque did about a loss of such nature. 

Ruth had skipped to get a dry gown. Draque’s 
piercing eyes went through Klomp as he watched him 
steadily, while he said : 

“There was a time, Klomp, when the thought of 
a grave worked me different from what it does now ; 
there was nothing inviting about it. I closed the doors 
on me and mine, and felt happy we were all safe 
around the hearth. It was a terrible thought to think 
a neighbor was picked off now and then. Some of my 
father’s family were laid in dark places, too, very 
dark places. I hadn’t a fair vision of what was beyond, 
but since Amanda died, the cold ground never held 
a Draque.” 

Ike had been trying all the morning to make a rail- 
fence look as if the Draques were back on the farm 
again. His father had said to him the evening before : 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


357 


“The fence over there is standing, and I don't think 
the corn 'ill interfere with the wheat, but if trespass- 
ing was its nature there isn’t much in the fence to 
hinder. ” 

The task was not as much to his liking as the same task 
would have been thirty years before, but the Draque 
determination showed itself, and he pulled through. 
He had many a disagreeable task to perform in those 
early days ; but he and remorse were then strangers, 
whereas, now, remorse bothered him more than the 
rails he handled. The beautiful past, with all its 
bright prospects, so ruthlessly swept away, flitted 
before him. Remorse seemed to be tearing his heart 
out; he could feel the buried fangs still working 
deeper and deeper in. If he could only talk to Jacob 
Klomp for a half hour, as he had some months before, 
he might find relief; but Jacob was as far out of his 
reach as the visions with which he was tormented. 

Draque understood Ike was not happy, but the 
misery he was undergoing on account of the drug he 
was forced to abandon was a consideration that did not 
trouble him much. He was over- elated with the 
prospect that Ike was about to do well again, and said 
to himself twenty times a day, as he watched him going 
about the place from one thing necessary to be done 
to another, “If Ike continues to show a disposition 
like that I’ll not keep a man like him making rail- 
fences, that I’ll not. The farm is good for a house in 
town, and the Draques ’ill see better days yet.” 

Ike soon found that muscle developed swinging the 
ax, and such various exercises as he was compelled to 
take in boyhood was not proof, after a lapse of years, 
in similar emergencies. He was glad to meet Jabez 
and Klomp in the evening at his father’s hearth, and 
join them in the expression of honest opinion. 


358 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


J abez as cordially extended his hand to Ike as if their 
family experiences had been the most pleasant, and 
Ike’s sensitive nature felt in the grasp, “There is noth- 
ing of the hypocrite in Jabez. ” 

Remorse never played its self condemning pranks 
more cruelly than it did with Ike when the good old 
man loosed the hold on his hand, took his chair, shifted 
his position slightly from one side to the other, while 
his hand went into one pocket and another, with the 
movement, in search of the handkerchief Ike would 
have died to be able to see replaced unneeded with the 
past that necessitated its use a blot. 

Draque waited until Jabez was thoroughly composed, 
then began: “There’s hardly as fair a show here on 
the farm as there was years ago, Jabez. We’ve got 
out of the way of farming, Ike and I. ” 

“I know it will go pretty hard with you for a while. 
The first man you had here let no grass grow under 
his feet; he kept everything up well. But the last 
that came took all he could out of the place, and didn’t 
trouble himself much about the condition it would be 
in after he was through with it. But it seems to be 
the spirit of the times, Draque,” said Jabez, who 
turned to Ike and asked, “Don’t you think it looks 
that way, Ike?” 

Draque could not wait for Ike to reply, but said 
hurriedly: “I saw the day in those parts when a man 
would rather inconvenience himself than cheat his 
neighbor. ” 

“There are such men in those parts yet, Draque; 
don’t think we’re all gone,” said Jabez. 

‘ ‘ It’s hard to tell where those strange fellows come 
from with their uncivil ways,” said Klomp, who had 
not spoken till now. 

Ike had been meditating on the question Jabez asked 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


359 


him. He felt more and more every day how he had 
been a victim of their thrift, and said when his oppor- 
tunity came : “I think the spirit you spoke of is the 
spirit of some, and unfortunately those some had it in 
their power to make the times — at least, for us. ” 

“There’s a movement on foot that’s bound to take 
such opportunities out of the hands of some,” said 
Jabez. 

“What do you call it?” asked Draque. 

“It’s name is not very well known yet,” said Jabez; 
“but a few of us call it Prohibition.” 

Ike did not remember that consciousness such as is 
necessary to take cognizance of facts clearly had been 
a stranger to him for months since he held conversation 
with Jacob Klomp; consequently what Jabez had to 
say was information, but not a surprise. 

“Jake has been hard at it since he went back, ” said 
Klomp. 

“I manage to keep my eyes open in that direction 
yet,” replied Jabez ; but changing the subject abruptly, 
he said : ‘ ‘ Peggy startled me last evening when she 
said she’d read that Schiver’s son blew his brains out at 
a place some distance from here, where he had an 
uncle living. ” 

“I knew he’d come to an end in some such way,” 
said Draque, shaking his head very sadly. “The last 
time I saw him he made me think of John Strand, and 
I wondered who’d pick him up.” 

Ike sat mute, with his handsome brown eyes steadily 
fixed on his father; but in his heart he madly con- 
demned the misunderstanding existing in the minds 
of men, as it once existed in his own, when he merci- 
lessly condemned John Strand. He turned to Klomp, 
knowing Jacob had, some time during his visit home, 
spoken to his understanding, as he had to his own, 


360 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


when he sat in the big chair by the window that day 
he met him at the river, that sweetly glided on, not a 
hundred rods from where he now sat, and said: “It is 
a fact hardly credible that intelligent men could have 
believed all along Frank Schiver’s trouble was one that 
could be thrown off at pleasure, much as another man 
would lay off his coat, when so many good hearts and 
strong minds had proved to them it was not so, in being 
carried away in the tide side by side with the heartless 
and weak. ” 

His lips quivered. The three men were looking di- 
rectly at him, each man thinking he might have more 
to say. In the depths of his soul there were words 
unspoken, which at present he felt powerless to utter. 
Presently Klomp said: “I’m sorry there are so few 
that have Jake’s ideas.” 

Draque looked eagerly at Klomp, expecting to hear 
from him more fully what those ideas were, but turned 
his head suddenly in a different direction at the sound 
of Ike’s clear voice as he said : 

“His ideas are correct; no man ever came so close 
to a man’s actual condition, outside the man who is 
the sufferer, and whose misunderstood suffering, ac- 
cording to law and equity^ as the words are understood, 
debars him from the right to expect or hope for human 
help or sympathy. ” 

Ike hung his head just a little, as if he was thought- 
fully considering some grave question pertaining to a 
client. He then looked up and said, and there was a 
tremor in his voice that went deeper into the hearts 
of his hearers than the words he uttered: “In the list 
of human maladies even parents and friends have taken 
exception to one, and called it crime. ” 

Klomp did not often show nervousness or irrita- 
bility. It was only when a great truth dawned upon 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


361 


him, or he was fighting against something he thought 
wrong, that he maneuvered, as Jabez good-naturedly 
called his movements at those times. Many things 
Jacob had made clear came before him with Ike’s re- 
mark — so vividly, he arose from his chair and sawed the 
air with his right arm. At this point Ike begged to 
be excused, and was about to leave the room when 
his father smiled and said: “That looks bad, Ike, to 
let the old man outdo you in a night’s talk. ” 

Ike stopped long enough at the door to say: “I 
know each one will be satisfied with his company with- 
out me or I would not leave. ” 

Klomp had let his hand come to a standstill on the 
back of a near chair, but remained standing, and said, 
addressing Draque as if he was the only one present : 
“It’s a pretty nice point, that, and it takes some rea- 
soning to be able to see it clear, and the trouble is 
right here.” He looked wistfully around and con- 
tinued: “Jake — or Jabez there — could tell it better 
than I, but I’ll endeavor.” 

‘ ‘ I always knew and said many a day ago that it did 
bad work,” said Draque. 

“Yes,” said Jabez, “you said it, and acted upon it 
when Klomp squarely turned his back on what he says 
now. ” 

“It didn’t save Ike, though,” answered Draque. 

“Yes,” said Klomp, regardless of the last few re- 
marks, “and the bad work it does is so bad sometimes 
that the torture from it can only be made bearable by 
taking a little of the cause of that torture. I never 
saw the doctor, and Jake said he didn’t, that knew of 
anything that would take the place of alcohol in making 
the suffering man at all comfortable ; and the plague 
of it all is, it does double work — it takes away the tor- 
ture the man intends it should and the reason he has 


362 ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 

a will to keep at the same time.” He said as he sat 
down: “I may not have made it clear, but I'd like to 
see the man Jake couldn’t make see it.” 

“Draque doesn’t see it yet as you and I see it, 
Klomp,” said Jabez. “While he acknowledges it does 
bad work, he is still a fair representative of the Amer- 
ican people ; he condemns the destroyed and not the 
destroyer. ” 

The clock that had marked off the long hours when 
mother looked for the letter from Bill that never came 
struck 10, and Jabez and Klomp departed. 


CHAPTER XXXIII. 


Draque always took “a peep” at the children before 
he retired, as he knew Meg did. He found Ike’s oldest 
boy with a sick stomach, and in a raging fever. He 
was not easily frightened at children’s sick' spells such 
as he had been long accustomed to, and set to work 
“to cure him up before morning. ” But when morning 
came he was worse, and the little fellow by his side 
sick too. Draque left the two boys to look at Ruth, 
and found her sleeping soundly and naturally, despite 
the tumble she had gotten in the cold creek. 

“It beats all,” said the old man, going back to the 
boys’ bed. “If it was Ruth, I’d know it was from the 
chill she got, but what’s the matter with those lads I 
don’t understand. ” 

He consulted Ike, and a doctor was summoned at 
once; but, notwithstanding all that, in twenty-four 
hours after the doctor’s first visit, the two boys were 
laid in their bed side by side in death. Diphtheria, 
known as putrid sore throat, had snapped the golden 
cord for both. The townspeople listened to details 
.concerning the double death, and thought it good 
news, “as the little fellows had not a very bright pros- 
pect in life at best.” But the good-hearted country 
neighbors, who saw Ike’s great sorrow for his dead 
boys, unanimously deplored the event, now as Ike was 
trying to do better. So it happened, the night after 
Ike had told his father and Jabez and Klomp that 
Jacob Klomp was right in his diagnosis of the malady 
he had set out to contend with on such a different war- 
path from all his predecessors, who had the welfare of 

363 


364 ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 

the human family at heart, he was the sole male heir 
to the much respected name — Draque. 

Mr. and Mrs. Klomp were alone and quietly seated 
in their easy chairs at home that night after they had 
been to the boys’ funeral. Every sound was trebly 
louder than they had ever heard the same sound be- 
fore. The song of the cricket that broke upon their 
ears at intervals sounded as if the cricket had pur- 
posely secreted himself in some hollow-sounding globe 
in order to magnify to them his little voice. Some- 
times the wall would creak with no provocation they 
knew of, and they would find themselves listening for 
a footstep overhead. The two had simultaneously 
turned their heads in the direction of a sound, and in 
doing so their eyes met. Klomp then said: “There 
was a good many of the Draques, but at this rate they’ll 
soon all be under. ’ 

“It does seem there’s been nothing but funerals in 
that family all along,” replied Mrs. Klomp. 

It would be hard to tell the relief those two remarks 
gave them. The cricket came out of the hollow globe, 
and when they heard him again he was in his old place 
in the chimney. Both wondered their attention had 
been turned to the other sounds, that now were noth- 
ing more than the twigs of an apple tree slapping the 
wall, or the not uncommon sound caused probably by 
the momentary relaxation of warping timber. 

Mrs. Klomp brightened, feeling there had been a 
load taken off her heart, and said: “There are times 
when a neighbor doesn’t hardly know how to go about 
offering help to a neighbor. Sorely as the Draque’s 
are stricken, I don’t know how I could be of any service 
to them. ” 

“I take it they’re not in need of any help that you 
or I could give,” said Klomp. 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


365 


“A while ago I was picturing them all in my mind,” 
said Mrs. Klomp, “and could see nothing I could do 
for them, however willing. ” 

“I was going over the same myself,” said Klomp, 
“and stopped short just about where you did. How- 
ever, I think if Jake had his way there ’d soon be an 
end put to about everything that’s horrible in human 
misery. ” 

Mrs. Klomp looked up and said sweetly, also with the 
rising inflection : “The grave isn’t horrible, Ezekiel?” 

“Draque can tell you more about that than I can,” 
replied Klomp. “It was not the grave I was referring 
to, but the cause that brings so many there in such in- 
human ways. Frank Schiver was put into a grave the 
other day with fewer brains than the Almighty gave 
him, and the minister didn’t seem to think respon- 
sibility rested anywhere but with the dead man him- 
self. ” Klomp shook his head and clenched his fist as 
he said: “I’d like to see him after Jake talked to him 
for an hour. ” 

When the dead of a whole neighborhood are gath- 
ered into one not remarkably large burying ground, 
past events connected with the lives of those lying 
around awaiting the last trumpet present themselves 
forcibly to the observing eye. The evening was pleas- 
ant and Ike’s voiceless boys had called him to the 
graveyard. Since he was a boy himself roaming 
through the fields or spending an evening at Hibe’s, 
where he took from his father the glass that “did him 
good, ” he never had such opportunity as now for re- 
flection. John Strand was the first mutilated victim 
laid there to rest. And the graves of many others Ike 
had known as well were, as the world looked at it, as 
unhonorably filled. He was now the friend of all 
those whom people intending to be lenient with at best 


366 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


called unfortunate. But how unavailing his friend- 
ship ! He was branded, like Cain, with the curse that 
brought them to such tragic ends, and over which he 
might have as little power. Tobias Lenk had aroused 
his sympathy more than he had thought “men of his 
stamp could,” but Tobe had always been a foremost 
man in the good cause that enlisted his own sympathy 
when but little more than a boy, and he had said, when 
Tobe’s distress first became apparent: “Some agent 
man cannot satisfactorily account for must have been 
at work when Tobe went astray. ” 

While Ike was thus meditating upon the past, 
Draque was having a serious time with Ruth. She 
had seen her mother taken away in a beautiful coffin, 
and was lonesome and very sorry she had to go to 
heaven and leave them all behind. But she had fol- 
lowed her brothers to their grave. The deep, dark 
hole and the clods rattling on the coffin lids aroused 
emotions in her heart never felt before. She could 
not get any further than the deep hole, and the hor- 
rible that clung to it banished everything else. In 
answer to her grandfather’s words of consolation she 
shook her head, and, sobbing, said: “Mamma went 
to heaven, but brothers are alone in the field. ” 

Her grandfather took her hands in his and said, not 
to her but to any one who might be near: “She’s like 
I used to be. Some kind heart will have to keep point- 
ing until she sees it all, and then peace will come, like 
it came to me. ” He stopped a while and then said : 
“If I could only comfort the little thing I’d be satisfied 
now. ” 

Ruth thought it all strange, and looked at her grand- 
father through her tears. 

Ike returned to the house worn and haggard looking 
after his vigil with the dead, which did not escape 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE, 


367 


Draque's notice. He said very kindly: “You need 
rest more than I do, Ike ; you’d better try and sleep 
some, and I’ll stay by Ruth.” 

Ruth was sobbing’ piteously and calling for her 
brothers. She was not satisfied with the bed they had 
that night, and refused to go to her own. Draque 
told her her brothers were happy, much happier than 
she was or ever would be on earth. 

She looked at the grandfather, who never told her 
a lie, and her eyes followed the direction of his finger 
as he pointed heavenward, until they rested upon the 
shining stars. For a while her little spirit soared, 
then her eyes dropped, and grief was uncontrolled. 
Draque patted her cheek and said no more, knowing 
exhausted nature must soon succumb to sleep. 

Ike did not act upon his father’s suggestion; he 
knew sleep would not come at his wish. He sat de- 
jected and heart broken, looking from Ruth to his old 
father. Draque looked at him and said, cheerily as 
he could under the circumstances: “Our burden is 
getting light, Ike. God is taking care of them all. ” 

Ike was like a statue — dumb; yet, while it speaks 
not to the ear, unravels a history to the eye. 

Ruth straightened up the best she could. As she 
looked from her grandfather to her father, her face 
\vore a more serious expression than had ever rested 
there before. She looked in her grandfather’s face 
and said: 

“Grandpa, I heard a man say papa is to blame for it 
all.” 

“All what, child?” asked her grandfather. 

“Oh, everything!” answered Ruth carelessly, as she 
snuggled closer to his side. 

“Everything?” asked Draque. “Plenty of good 
things fall to the lot of everybody, and you can’t 


368 ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 

say any one is to blame for good things, can you, 
Ruth?” 

“Good things don’t come to us like other folks,” said 
Ruth. 

“Who told you we hadn’t our share of good things 
as well as other folks?” asked Draque. 

“That man said it,” answered Ruth, “and he said 
I’d never be good for anything either, with my back 
broken.” 

When Draque looked up he saw he was alone with 
Ruth; he smoothed her hair and said: “We’ve made 
a mistake, Ruth, but you don’t understand. I ought 
to have more sense. It won’t mend matters, either, 
to say a word further. ” 

Even a greater mistake had been made than Draque 
had supposed. Before he turned the key in the door 
that night he knew Ike was not in the house. He 
thought of a dozen places where he might possibly be 
found, but indignation rose to such an extent that he 
would not endeavor to find him if he could, he said. 

“Has he not a right to face the bitterness of life, 
brought about by his own conduct, at least as brave 
as his old father?” 

Draque reasoned in the same hackneyed way he had 
reasoned many and many a time before when reason 
with Ike was not in its proper groove. And the en- 
lightenment Jabez and Klomp, with Ike’s help, had 
endeavored to throw upon the subject, was as unavail- 
ing as Tobe’s persuasive arguments opposing the well- 
rooted slave system had been. 

He had early and boldly proclaimed that “drink did 
mighty bad work,” yet he expected Ike to step along 
as if the bad work had not been done. 


CHAPTER XXXIV. 

Abel Beech and his friend had been around a great 
deal in the last six months, working and taking notes. 
AbePs reflections, after a day spent among the suffer- 
ers from alcohol, were not the original reflections of 
Jacob Klomp. As a matter of course, he looked at 
things as the majority did, and had a certain pride, too, 
in his own good judgment. Those who claimed his 
attention were indirect sufferers. The man who lost 
his center of gravity or in any other way showed indi- 
vidual helplessness, had no claim of Christian charity 
upon him. The shock received from Jacob Klomp’s 
assertions some time before he had quite overcome. 
At this point, to be of real service to those he wished 
to serve, he believed it absolutely necessary that he 
should overcome said shock. He said to his friend, 
after reading certain startling articles very attentively: 
“111 have to do some loud thinking before I can arrive 
at that point. ” 

All of which Jacob would allow was but natural, and 
which no reasonable man will gainsay when he reflects 
that truth does not take possession of the average man 
at once, but takes hold of him imperceptibly and gen- 
erally through agency, about as the vine reaches the 
summit of the pole, and without which prop it would 
never climb, but creep 

The Apostles, in telling eternal truths, had much 
the same difficulty to contend with. Their preaching 
and telling ended only with their lives, and then all 
who heard did not believe. The spoken truth has 
been sounding through ages, and has yet many con- 
24 369 


370 


ISAAC DRA.QUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


quests to make, and among those yet unbelieving are 
numbered some of the most enlightened. J acob Klomp 
had said, and the saying had been widely circulated ; 

“We drain our coffers, and are in continual turmoil 
fighting the effect — a method unworthy the sense of 
our people. Neither is such proceeding logical; the 
cause is what every man should aim at. With a sense 
of pain I realize our coffers are to a great extent re- 
plenished from said cause. The deeper I look into the 
laws concerning the question now being agitated, the 
better prepared I am to tell you. Our Solon is yet to 
come. ” 

Since Meg’s death and the departure of Ike’s family 
from the city, Abel had been doing his best to alle- 
viate the woes of those he thought deserving. Much 
as he knew of the squalid poverty and bitter woe of 
whole families, once he set about hunting and helping 
he learned more in six months than he could have 
dreamed of in a lifetime. 

He traveled about like a toad far from and in search 
of the banks of the familiar and necessary pond, feel- 
ing so much depended upon something he must do, 
and he did much toward helping many. But the 
wheel turns around, and with every revolution new 
claimants for such charity will be placed upon the 
arena. 

Abel did his best to fill the jails with as many of the 
unfortunates as he could lawfully place behind bars, 
in order to give the poor washerwoman an opportunity 
to ply her avocation unmolested and provide her chil- 
dren with a crust. One family in particular claimed 
his sympathy. They were next to roofless and did not 
own a bed ; straw and old blankets thrown in corners 
served as such. Conspicuous among the latter was 
the familiar army blanket, that had done service when 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


371 


the man who hid under it now was a soldier and strong. 
Between washing, scrubbing and begging the mother 
obtained the miserable crust that kept life in herself 
and three children, and sometimes provided for a hus- 
band., often absolutely helpless as the little child at 
her feet, who was a peaceable good-for-nothing, always 
drunk. 

Abel’s first step here was to undertake to drive that 
man out ; but a man cannot well be driven who will 
not go. That he was a disabled man, and a claimant 
upon Christian charity, not one of the intelligent class 
Abel conversed with seemed to realize. Abel, like 
many another successful man, was always a good man 
but never a soldier. When the demand for soldiers 
was pressing and drafting resorted to, he was the for- 
tunate possessor of a few hundred dollars, which wiped 
out the call to arms that hung over him, and it is quite 
possible saved him, too, from being as the man before 
him, who was a soldier for a long time, and when he 
came home, the war being over, did not appear able 
to get into the way of the push necessary to send a 
man in business or profession to the topmost round. 
He had been a sociable man, and loved to talk of 
camping, and long marches, and battlefields. He had 
been brave, and helped to save the Union. Why 
should he not tell the story over the sparkling cup? It 
was customary and quite proper. The habits of a 
man’s life for three or four years may go very far 
toward forming that man’s character. While the 
wreck’s life alternated between lounging on the camp 
ground and desperate encounters, Abel was daily ac- 
quiring a knowledge of human nature, in a business 
way, that finally made him the independent man of 
means he was. 

It may not be amiss to remark here that such golden 


372 ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 

opportunities to acquire fortune seldom occur in this 
or any country as were spread out for those who 
did not feel inclined and were not compelled to shoul- 
der a gun and march to the front during the civil 
war. They unquestionably hold the advantage for 
their children to this day, because they learned busi- 
ness while the soldier learned war. 

It did not occur to Abel he might push a little too 
hard upon the harmless good-for-nothing he was deal- 
ing with now. He had often been picked up and 
housed by the county for quite a number of days at 
some other man’s expense, and had been turned loose, 
always with the privilege of going back to the place 
he called home, where he rummaged about the pantry 
until he found a bite of something his wife had washed 
or scrubbed the day before to provide. Then, after 
resting until he felt toned up, he sawed wood for a day 
or two till he got the means that gave him another 
ride to the jail or county work house, where he found 
his expenses paid as heretofore. 

Abel thought he was too easy-going, and variety 
might be what he stood in need of after all; conse- 
quently, before his term as guest of the county expired 
this time, Abel and his co-workers resolved to act. 

They found a comfortable shanty in a remote part 
of the city, and, with their consent, transplanted that 
man’s family and their belongings. The head of the 
house did not return for several days after the family 
had departed, and was a moderately surprised man to 
find the door more securely fastened than he had ever 
found it before and nobody inside to open it for him. 
He banged away for a while, and then began to realize 
the place was empty. He sat for a long time on an 
old wooden bench under a tree near the door, evi- 
dently endeavoring to concentrate his shattered.reason- 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


373 


ing powers on something that was all the world in 
importance to him. Alternately his face wore a puz- 
zled and then a pained expression, but nobody cared 
for him ; that he knew* full well. He had no interests 
at stake a human being he ever heard of would turn a 
finger to uphold. He was not on the best of terms 
with the neighbors, and was sure not one of them 
would tell where his family went if he should ask. 
His reasoning brought him to this certain conclusion 
— ^what was to be done he must do without help. 

Night was fast gathering, and his first outlook must 
be for shelter. There was a little window on hinges 
in the back of the shanty he knew how to open, or, if 
the worst must be done, he felt he was able to break 
it in. He found that no attempt had been made to 
secure the window, which he opened with hardly an 
effort, and crawled through. The blankets were gone, 
but the pile of straw was there, upon which he stretched 
himself for the night. Maybe in the big world full of 
Christians some one thought him worth trying to help, 
but if that one existed he did not know it. Why did 
it happen he was such an outcast when he began life so 
well; Jacob Klomp is telling the people he is an out- 
cast because the mistake has been made of placing his 
disorder in the moral, instead of the physical category 
of evils, where it surely belongs. In the morning he 
emerged through the window he entered, and moved 
on with the machine-like dragging of limbs peculiar to 
those of his class. The great wonder is that such a 
brainy, clever people as we are did not see long ago 
that Public Opinion regarding this misunderstood and 
misused class was far astray. 

There is no outlet for excuse but the one — it is 
natural to be blind to evils that come under our obser- 
vation daily ; but to turn over and look at evils at a 


374 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


convenient distance without gloves. Bull-fighting 
must truly be a disgusting spectacle to one not accus- 
tomed to the sight, but after Jacob Klomp is through 
telling, our people will have an opportunity of viewing 
far more revolting spectacles that have taken place be- 
neath their eyes, and with their full approbation. They 
will see that many a barbarity greater than a bull- 
fight has been perpetrated, perhaps upon some member 
of their own family. 

The witches that tormented the Yankees in the 
East, and were punished so severely for their witch- 
craft, would be looked upon today, not as demons, or 
their emissaries, nor as persons under moral ostra- 
cism ; thanks to the progress that moves hand in hand 
with truth. 

We are prone to blame those Yankee fathers, but 
why they are more deserving of blame for that frenzy 
of killing witches than the Body American is to blame 
for the wholesale savagery of the times, is something 
that will not appear quite clear to the narrator of past 
events in the twentieth century. 

There was nothing better in prospect for the man 
who dragged himself away from the shanty that morn- 
ing than another term in the work-house, and even 
that boon he had not the means to procure. He 
moved on, thinking how sometimes “he struck it 
lucky.” There is a certain feeling of humanity for 
another, born of understanding, in those who have 
undergone or are undergoing like evils, that one who 
is a stranger to those certain evils never feels. The 
man who sometimes “struck it lucky” had hope of 
finding such a friend. He knew better than to ask 
a Christian for the dime or two that would buy what 
would put his heart and nerves in a more comfortable 
working condition ; but if he came across a scape-grace 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


375 


like himself, who had but that amount to his name 
above what he needed for his own soothing draught, 
he knew he would get it. He could not think of 
home, or wife and children, nor would the latter care 
for him, if in his condition, until relief was found. 

The nearest saloon was the nearest gate to comfort 
he knew of, and thither he directed his steps. He 
clutched with more than brotherly affection the hand 
of a handsome man who stood outside, with his back 
against a lamp-post, his feet firmly planted on some 
bricks that were higher than the rest of the pavement, 
and his head bowed until his chin found a resting 
place. The touch aroused him; he looked vacantly 
around, and then settled a half intelligent look upon 
the figure by his side. To understand the case before 
him took but a moment ; he carefully drew in one foot, 
and then the other, until he stood a tolerably erect 
man ; put a finger and thumb into his vest pocket, and 
dropped what he took from thence into the hand of the 
man beside him, who instantly left the friend he 
found, and turned to the saloon. It may have been 
less than a half hour afterward that the man who with 
such eager haste appeared before the dispenser of 
deadly drugs, emerged from the same place, some- 
what limbered in the joints, and ready for a day at 
wood-sawing. 

Nothing more was heard of him for several days, 
when in a part of the city quite remote from that* 
whisky shop the people were shocked by several 
reports of a pistol, and then a woman in their midst 
dying. The murderer made no attempt to escape, 
and offered no resistance whatever when being placed 
back of locks stronger than had ever secured him 
before. How the man found his wife so soon puzzled 
Abel Beech, but it can be told in a few words. The 


376 ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 

next friend he fell in with after leaving the man at the 
lamp-post, was in the neighborhood of his old home 
the day his family went away ; he was a man who was 
about the streets a great deal, in every part of the city, 
and saw some things, too. He knew the “wagon for 
hire,” and the driver’s face was familiar; he took his 
friend to the spot. 

Abel felt chagrined that he had been so frustrated in 
his work of charity, but he would go a little further; 
he would see the children were placed in an asylum, 
and also, would do all in his power to see that their 
father would not need stimulants much longer. 

Abel met Jacob Klomp a while after, when the mur- 
derer was being tried for his life. Jacob’s face wore 
a very sad, serious look, for everyone he met about 
the court house that day was bloodthirsty, and to him 
the whole spectacle was sickening. He had an acquaint- 
ance with Abel Beech that warranted him recognition, 
and he said, after Abel approached and halted near 
to him, “I hear you had a hand in this. ” 

Abel began at once to explain, and said, “I have 
devoted my time for a while back to charity, and have 
seen women and helpless children so misused and 
abused. I have seen children cruelly neglected by 
their own mothers from the same cause. I felt I must 
begin somewhere ; in fact, I felt it to such an extent 
that it would be misdemeanor on my part to not act. 

I had the idea all along that it was outrageous in a 
Christian people to allow children to suffer so at the 
hands of those that should protect them. ” Here he 
stopped long enough to see the rope around the neck 
of the man he thought so merited it, and continued : 
“When a man has ideas he would like to see acted 
upon, he must say or do something that will convey 
those ideas to others. ’ ’ 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


377 


“I heartily endorse the bulk of what you have 
said,” replied Jacob, “and as heartily deplore the fact 
that you are wrong in locating blame. ’ ’ He looked 
thoughtfully at the man before him and said, quietly ; 
“You will have to go back farther, my friend, before 
you touch the right spot. The physician who would 
cauterize every sore upon a patient regardless of the 
poisoned current passing through the system, does 
nothing but make his patient more unsightly. ’ ’ 

J acob made no further attempt to express unsought 
opinions. Abel had heard many a thing Jacob said 
before, and that sounded in his ears with the same 
earnestness they had been spoken; but there was 
something in this last soft speech that went to his 
soul. He reasoned himself on his way home ; it was 
not the truth that was in it, any more than in words 
spoken by Jacob at other times, that while different, 
meant about the same thing. It might be the unfor- 
tunate part he had taken in the affair that troubled 
him so. Whatever it was, his charitable emotions 
were somewhat checked ; should he ever come across ' 
a similar case, he would think a long time before he 
would take just such another step. 

The sympathetic friend who had given the mur- 
derer money to buy his first drink, that lonesome 
morning when he went forth without home or family, 
found his own pockets empty many a time since that 
occurrence, and was compelled to manage about the 
same way the murderer had managed for relief. For 
several days he had been trying to sober up, and at 
such times was a remarkably intelligent man. He 
looked over the daily paper when he could get one, 
and this morning saw what he thought an overwrought 
description of a heartless murderer. As he continued 
to read about circumstances relating to the crime h^ 


378 ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 

became entirely himself. Shocking reality served to 
stimulate for the time, so much of the man that at other 
times was dead without the aid of stimulants. 

He stepped on toward the court house, so familiar to 
him for many a long year, not knowing that he was 
going to do anything in particular, but still he must 
go. He knew every nook and corner of the building, 
and was neither awkward nor out of place, shabby and 
neglected-looking though he was, when he appeared 
before judge and lawyers and people awaiting- the ver- 
dict, and said: 

“Early in the fifties I first raised my voice upon this 
very spot in behalf of the slave. There were very 
few who listened to me that day, gentlemen, who 
thought I was right. I again speak, and with an ex- 
perience that enables me to know what I say is truth, 
and tell you the man before you is an object of charity, 
and not a criminal. ’ ’ 

The surprise had hardly subsided, when Ike sat down 
exhausted. No attempt was made to remove him; it 
was evident he was well known, and probably still 
respected by a few. 

Jacob Klomp was the only friend Ike met that day; 
they talked long and earnestly. Ike knew he was un- 
derstood, and like a child shed some tears he was no 
longer able to keep back. Jacob tried to persuade him 
to go back to the farm, but Ike said: “No. I am but 
a burden to my father, and will never again by my 
presence add sorrow to his bitter cup. ’ ’ 

“How does it happen you are here, Ike?’’ asked 
J acob, after he found it useless to try further to face 
him toward home. 

“I could hardly explain so that you would under- 
stand,’’ replied Ike, “how it came that I am in the 
city, but as to being where you see me now, I will 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


379 


relate with pleasure. I happened to meet the man in 
there,” said Ike, pointing toward the prison, “the day 
I put on my uniform ; he was a soldier, home on a fur- 
lough, and came around to see what the new soldiers 
looked like After the surrender at Appomattox 
I met him again ; we lived in the same city, and jour- 
neyed home together. He accompanied me to my 
house, and partook of the customary hospitality, the 
toast being, ‘ The Union forever.’ ” 

Here Ike stopped, and after a struggle with his feel- 
ings, continued: “Since that time I have often met 
him in my wanderings, and an irresistible desire to do 
something for him brought me this way.” 

Had Jacob spoken what was in his mind he would 
have said: “The man you would help, Ike, is a doomed 
man. The populace clamors for his blood; with wolf- 
like propensities they sniff the air to detect, if possi- 
ble, any opposition to their grewsome thirst. Never 
were spectators in the arena more eager to witness the 
bloody combat. ’ ’ But he knew Ike was not the man 
to whom he should speak such cruel words, and simply 
said, “You can do nothing for him, I fear.” 

“No.” said Ike, “I have not the same certitude 
back of those promptings to do good I felt twenty 
years ago.” 

For a long time not another word passed between 
those two, who, in youth were so nearly alike in 
strength and mental vigor, whereas now one was so 
disabled and the other strong. Jacob regretted 
parting with Ike when he knew he had no where to 
lay his head that night, and said : 

“Ike, I am going to take a run up to father’s tonight, 
and think you’d better come along; we spent some 
pleasant hours there together; suppose we try it again ; 
it will do both good, and will please me exceedingly. 


380 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


Ike looked at him, and said: “There is no one in the 
world I would rather please, except my father. I have 
failed to correspond to his wishes, and must decline 
your invitation. ’ ’ 

“I am sorry,” said Jacob, and after a moment’s 
pause, he said: “We parted before, Ike, and there was 
a prospect of us not meeting again, so you thought, 
but here we are, and before leaving you I would like 
to say, never allow yourself to be so pushed as to feel 
you have not a friend. ’ ’ 

“I shall always remember that friend,” replied 
Ike. 

The conversation ended, and the men journeyed in 
different directions. 


CHAPTER XXXV. 


In as short a time afterward as a steam engine could 
carry him over fifteen or twenty miles, Jacob was 
springing up the steps at his father’s door. 

Klomp opened the door, saying, while he wrung 
Jacob’s hand, “I’ll be bound if ever I got as great a 
surprise, Jake.’’ 

“I could not help surprising you,’’ said Jacob, laugh- 
ing, “for I have been surprised myself. I had no 
intention the day before yesterday of being where 
I am now, but unaccountable circumstances bring 
about unaccountable events. ’ ’ 

“What’s happened now?’’ asked Mrs. Klomp, as she 
came to greet her son, much alarmed. 

Jacob looked at his mother in an assuring way that 
at once settled all anxiety on her part, and said: 
“Enough has happened, mother, that is not quite as 
far from home as slavery was, but still is far enough 
from this household to not cause present alarm. ’ ’ 

Klomp looked at Jacob expecting further explana- 
tion, which he was not slow to give. He said: “I had 
read about the murder here in your city, but paid no 
attention to anything but the fact. ’ ’ 

“You’d have something to do,’’ said his father, in- 
terrupting him, “to keep youself posted on particulars 
of every such fact as that. We’ll forgive you for it, 
your mother and I. ’ ’ 

Jacob smiled, and said: “I was informed through 
the mail, the man in prison for the crime was Isaac 
Draque. ” 

“Oh, Ike’s wife is dead,’’ said Mrs. Klomp; “she 

381 


382 ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 

died long before that woman was killed. I don’t see 
how they could get it so mixed up. 

“I knew that, too,” said Jacob, “and probably had 
it been any other man than Ike I would have taken 
the time to investigate; but when Ike’s name was 
mentioned by a man I thought had the opportunity to 
know, I dropped everything. ’ ’ 

“It was intimated by some that Ike’s wife didn’t get 
fair play,” said Mrs. Klomp, shaking her head, “and 
then Ike’s leaving so soon after coming to the farm, 
that’s how they got mixed up. ” 

Klomp turned a sharp eye upon Jacob, and said, 
“You got word from some one about here that it was 
Ike?” 

“Yes,” answered Jacob. 

Klomp saw it was not Jacob’s intention to make him 
any the wiser as to who that man might be, and said : 
“You needn’t tell me any more, that man doesn’t 
trouble himself much about what’s happening of the 
kind. ’ ’ 

“He certainly takes Ike’s interest to heart,” said 
Jacob, “whether he thinks he killed his wife or not. ” 

“They’re not always the surest killed, Jake, that 
are shot on the spot,” said Klomp. “They might as 
well have hung John Strand for killing his wife as 
that man.” 

“That he was as guilty is certain,” said Jacob, “but 
some cases are hard to prove, and others hard to 
understand. I suppose there is where the difference 
lies. ” 

“If justice is what we’re aiming at, it’s plain it’s a 
bad mess we’ve made of it,” answered Klomp. 

‘ ‘ That is the idea I am endeavoring to impress upon the 
American people, and feel confident that with the help 
of God and His workers on earth I will do it,” replied 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


383 


Jacob, his face glowing with enthusiasm over the 
bright prospect in store for the children of men. He 
suddenly turned to the table where his mother had an 
old-fashioned bowl filled with flowers; he lifted one 
and then another with his finger to see how many 
were familiar, or if she had one among them he did 
not know, and said: “The flowers grow as they did 
thirty years ago, don’t they, mother? There is but one 
here I have not seen a hundred times in the garden. ’ ’ 
Singling out that one, he asked, “What is this?” 

“Your aunt Lucinda sent me the seed from the East 
with a great long name to it I could never remem- 
ber, and I call it Cindy’s flower.” 

“I see,” said Jacob, “it is the only stranger that has 
crept into the garden since I was a boy. ’ ’ 

Mrs. Klomp was highly delighted that her flowers 
were still appreciated by Jacob, and said: “I’m glad 
you remember them all. You see, as I grow old, 
I don’t care to add to my garden; it takes considerable 
care, and the flowers we had long ago always seem to 
me the sweetest. ’ ’ 

“You get out of misery’s track in a hurry, Jake. 

I think no man living could beat you at it,” said 
Klomp. “You left a poor fellow with a rope around his 
neck for a flower. ’ ’ 

Jacob took the chair he had left, saying: “When one 
thinks with me as you do, father, I never waste breath 
going over the horrible, already too many times told, 
but seek recreation, either in planning how I can best 
carry out those correct ideas of mine, or peacefully 
resting in the lap of God’s wonderful creation as you 
find me now. Besides, my mind has been very active 
for several months. While I am here, with your per- 
mission I will breathe the air, and enjoy the sounds 
that are so health-giving to both body and mind. ’ ’ 


3H 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


“You always did about as you pleased around here, 
Jake, and I’m thinking it’s a pretty late time of the 
day to try to correct you now, ’ ’ said Klomp, laughing. 
As soon as he could look a little serious, he continued, 
“That you’re not a spoiled child you owe to your 
mother’s good managing.” Here Klomp could not 
help laughing again, which provoked Mrs. Klomp to 
say: 

“I think you can get out of misery’s track about as 
soon your son, Ezekiel. ” 

“That’s just where the trouble comes in,” said 
Klomp, who put on a serious look at once. “As soon 
as a man begins to feel very happy himself, he forgets 
it’s in his power to make those that are very unhappy 
a little more comfortable, and I’ll own up it was a fault 
I had to be always a little slow. ” 

He looked over his glasses at J acob, and said : ‘ ‘ Slow 
may not be the fittest word, but I hadn’t the stuff in 
me that sees without being shown. ” 

Klomp’s voice did not drop at the word shown, to 
the extent it should, which led Jacob to think his father 
had directed a question to him. 

He said: “It is the Yankee’s way I believe, father, 
to answer a question by asking another. I think you 
had the stuff in you, but were too completely taken 
up with the farm to give proper attention to the little 
plant.” 

Mrs. Klomp now had an opportunity to laugh, and 
helped wonderfully to give the appearance of light- 
heartedness to those in the room, for Klomp looked 
serious, and Jacob’s smile was very faint. 

“We’ll drop it,” said Klomp, shaking his bead. 
“I know you’d be too considerate to say otherwise even 
though you half thought it, Jake. ” 

Since Jabez’ first lazy watch dog eyed his master, 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


38s 


who seemed to be at a loss to know how to take John 
Strand, Jabez always looked to intelligence in a dog 
more than anything else. Whatever dog Jabez owned 
seemed to know more than the common dog ; whether 
the dog learned of Jabez or Jabez sought until he 
found a dog possessed of such qualities, is immaterial, 
but that a wise dog always guarded the Ghent house- 
hold, the neighbors all knew. From the door yard 
across the fields came the deep, base bow-wow that 
penetrated into Klomp’s sitting room, and claimed the 
attention of the three there. 

Klomp said : ‘ ‘That's a wonderful knowing dog J abez 
has; he knows when there’s a stranger in the neigh- 
borhood without laying eyes on him.” 

“I suppose I am responsible for all this racket,” 
said Jacob. 

“You’re the only one calling himself a stranger in 
those parts that I know of, ” replied his father. 

Jacob rested his elbow on the table and looked as if 
he might be gazing upon something a thousand miles 
away, and said: “The American people are intellect 
worshipers, and among the lower animals as well as 
among men, those that manifest greatest intelligence 
certainly claim our admiration. ” 

“Jabez sticks to it that the father of false gods in this 
country is money, Jake,” said Klomp. 

Jacob stopped awhile longer to think, and then said: 
“We have two idols we are inclined to worship, though 
in doing so we sometimes lose sight of all that is really 
good, and those little gods are money and intellect. 
The good old pagan without the Bible to guide him, 
never lost sight of truth and justice, while very intel- 
ligent men, nowadays, with Bible in hand, allow both 
to disappear when the money god rises before them. 
Intellect without truth is next to worthless. The 


386 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


Sophists knew as great a number of facts as Socrates 
did, and could talk fluently by the hour, yet what 
was all their knowledge compared to the truths 
Socrates would point out to them. ” 

Klomp looked at the son he thought able to make 
other men see anything he wished, and said: “Those 
fellows that have the stuff you talk about, Jake, often 
have little else to display, and must consequently 
appear to a disadvantage for a while. ” 

“I understand,” said Jacob, looking serious, “men 
naturally deal in one or two things to the exclusion of 
all others.” 

“That’s what they do,” said Klomp, “and I’ll be 
bound if it doesn’t seem the sensible way, too.” 

“It is the sensible way when we deal with profes- 
sions or mechanics’ tools,’’ said Jacob. 

“I often heard it said,’’ said Klomp, laughing, 
“that a Jack of all trades is master of none, and those 
money and intellect men you spoke of may keep that 
saying in view. ” After a moment’s reflection, Klomp 
continued: “Truth and justice and the like are not apt 
to make the show on sight that gold and silver and 
cleverness do — that may be the reason so many lose 
sight of them, if they ever got sight at all. But don’t 
let up, Jake. I’ve lived long enough to see it proved, 
the fellow that gets hold of one or the other, or both, 
is bound to bring a people to see at last that what he 
deals with should be considered first. ’ ’ 

“I have no idea of giving up, father,” coolly replied 
Jacob, who sat with eyes fixed on the table adorned 
with the bowl of flowers. 

Klomp resumed talk, saying: “When I was a good 
many years younger than I am now, I didn’t take much 
stock in the man that laid down his hoe to talk justice; 
but in the course of time Jabez took that out of me.” 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


387 


Here he stopped short and looked at Jacob, saying, 
while he laughed aloud: “It’s queer, isn’t it, Jake, 
what a train of thoughts an intelligent dog will bring 
up?’’ 

“More insignificant things than the bark of a great 
dog often set men thinking and acting,’’ replied 
Jacob. 

“That’s true,’’ said Mrs. Klomp. “Rome is where 
it is because a flock of geese flopped and cackled, so 
I’ve read.’’ 

“Cool down over there. Bounce,’’ roared Klomp, 
“or we might make you responsible for a complete 
revolution of whisky laws here in America. ’ ’ He turned 
his head and said, gravely, “Eh, Jake?’’ 

Jacob’s affirmation was contained in a smile he be- 
stowed on his mother, as he went outside to breathe 
the air and hear the sounds he had spoken of, and his 
father promised him he should enjoy. 

While Jacob was outside having what his father 
called “his fling,’’ that father was mentally trying to 
unravel a knot. That it was not his first attempt at 
the same hard knot he acknowledged, and this time 
candidly pronounced himself unable to loose that knot, 
often as he tried it. He abandoned the attempt, 
saying to himself, “When Jake comes in I’ll put it to 
him.’’ 

Those mental perplexities that often arise, and leave 
the mind in as uncertain a state as they found it, even 
after laborious investigation, present themselves to 
plain people, as well as to those whose business it is to 
deal with such more generally, to the exclusion of 
those common problems that give way but to physical 
force. The thinker thinks and the worker works; 
that the thinker may stoop to a crowbar is not prob- 
able, but that the man with plow and ax in hand is not 


388 ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 

often a sublime reasoner cannot be presumed with the 
same certainty. No occupation in life can completely 
control the workings of the human mind. We find 
our sweetest poets in the humblest walks. Our most 
illustrious statesman and second father of his country 
laid down the ax as Cincinnatus of old did the plow, 
to steer the ship of state aright. 

Away in the dark forest we find some lovely flowers, 
not cultivated or watered from water-pots in men’s 
hands, but moist with the dews of heaven. 

When Jacob resumed his seat in the sitting room, 
Klomp said : ‘ ‘ Since I went clean over on the whisky 
question, Jake, I’ve been bothered a good deal, as to 
how Draque can keep the attitude he does; when 
I thought drinking whisky was the correct thing, 
Draque wouldn’t look at it. He’s stuck to his prin- 
ciple, too, since the day he quit, but he doesn’t seem 
to get any further. Although no man living has been 
more sorely punished by whisky than he has, he 
wouldn’t lift his finger to make you or I or any other 
man quit, and it isn’t that he’s an unfeeling man at 
heart, either.” 

Jacob was considering what his father had said, and 
did not appear ready to answer that minute ; in the in- 
terval Klomp thought of one man, and said: “Except 
Ike; I think he tried hard enough to stop him.” 
Klomp was becoming restless, when Jacob at last said: 

“Draque is by no means an exceptional case; in 
numbers, those of his sort come next to the habitual 
moderate drinker. That indescribable something that 
holds a man to false theory and practice, has played 
havoc with many a well-meaning man before Draque 
had the opportunity to so distinguish himself. Draque 
believed it wrong to drink intoxicants, and had sub- 
stantial reasons before him for so believing — namely, 


ISAAC DRAQUE, TtlE BUCRtVE. 3S9 

that his example might have been a help toward impov- 
erishing John Strand, and ultimately leading to his 
death. Also, it began to dawn upon him, his habits kept 
him longer in a log cabin than some of his neighbors. 
It is evident the sum total of the bad effects he saw 
the day he swore off was contained in those two cir- 
cumstances. Many a man lets drink alone from similar 
considerations. Afterward, his desire to save Ike 
from such fate or catastrophe as happened John caused 
him to try to exert a saving influence over him. How 
many such really good men we have in the world, 
father — but they are not the kind, that, while casting 
off their own load, help to unburden others. ’ ’ 

“Oh!” saidKlomp, quite excitedly, “I’dput Draque’s 
example for good in the face of a dozen moderate 
drinkers.” 

“So would I,” answered Jacob, “but the question 
you were anxious to have answered was: How is it 
that Draque, who has not drank for years, fails 
to understand your enthusiasm, and mine, on that 
question, and I cannot help answering: It is because 
he was actuated by no motive beyond the mere acci- 
dentals that brought about John Strand’s death, and 
his own half poverty. He only saw that fruit on cer- 
tain branches of the tree were bad ; whereas you and 
I see the whole tree is a poison even to its smallest 
root. Some men are slower than others in taking in 
situations ; they take in a part readily enough, but a 
natural lifetime is all but too short for them to grasp 
the whole. ” 

“I’ll be blamed if you’re not right, Jake,” said 
Klomp. “It took me a natural lifetime to see what’s 
now as plain as day. Draque’s but a little older than 
I am, and nobody knows what minute the truth about 
the whole matter will come to him as quick. ’ ’ 


390 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


All disposition to talk further on the subject ap- 
peared to have died out, when Klomp suddenly aroused, 
placed his right knee to rest upon his left, pitched his 
head a little back, and said : 

“As my mind carries me back over the time since 
there was nothing here but trees, a few log cabins, and 
here and there a wigwam belonging to men of another 
race, that had to step out to make room for us, I see 
how thinkers and workers have played smash with 
everything as it then existed because it was for prog- 
ress and the public good. A railroad was run right 
through my best field over there, and I couldn’t help 
myself ; it went through crosswise, too, and made a bad 
break of it. ’ ’ The pupils of his .eyes dilated as he con- 
tinued: “I had it in wheat one year and meadow the 
next, and mebbe they weren’t good crops I got off it. 
But the men in the Senate and Congress seemed to 
know what was good for the place better than I did — 
although, when I was chopping down the trees and 
taking out the roots on that same lot, not one of them 
was born. The individuals that are benefited by the 
lawful traffic that we would put a stop to for the public 
good can turn to some other fields for a harvest, like 
a good many around here did. There’s nothing unjust 
in asking or even compelling them to do it. Don’t 
let up, Jake.’’ 


CHAPTER XXXVI. 


That night, when Draque sat alone with Ruth, all 
his brilliant hopes for better days were gone ; that they 
would never leave the farm for a city home, he now 
felt sure. The blow he had just received was but a 
repetition of many a hard one struck before. He 
arose to his feet, put Ruth upon hers, and said, “I’ve 
often carried you, Ruth, but I’m losing strength and 
must ask you to walk now. ’ ’ 

Ruth straightened her crooked back the best she 
could. Young as she was, she was beginning to realize 
something was expected of her, and taking her grand- 
father’s hand, she said, “I’m strong enough to walk 
all the time.’’ As they walked on she said, “I can 
help you, too. ” 

Here her grandfather tottered and might have fallen 
had Ruth not given him support. Her eyes shone 
with delight as she exclaimed, “I can hold you up, 
see!” 

“I’d have gone over that time, sure, only for you, 
Ruth,” said Draque. 

“I know I can be some good,” said Ruth, as she 
walked on still holding her grandfather’s hand. “That 
man didn’t know everything, did he, grandfather?” 

“No,” said Draque, smiling, as he stopped to rest 
the hand she was not holding, on her head. 

“I’m real small,” said Ruth, “but I’m older than 
I look, and I’m going to try to do work just like other 
folks. I’ll sweep tomorrow, and do the dishes with 
sister, and I’ll help you in the garden. ” Then chang- 

391 


392 ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 

ing her happy tone to a very serious one, she said, 
“I won’t play any more.” 

“What would the place be like, Ruth, if you stopped 
playing?” asked her grandfather. 

“I don’t know,” answered Ruth, solemnly, as if she 
saw it would be a strange place for herself, “but that 
man shan’t say any more that I’m good for nothing. ” 

“Your grandfather never cared what people said, 
Ruth, if he felt himself he was doing the best he could, 
and why should you?” 

“I wasn’t doing the best I could; I played all the 
time, and I can work,” said Ruth. “I’m not as bad 
as some folks, either, if I am little, and have a 
crooked back. You know the circus we went to in the 
city, grandfather?” she asked, looking up. 

“Yes,” answered Draque. 

“I saw a man there that didn’t have any arms at 
all ; he was working with his feet, and could do lots of 
things. I’m not as bad as that, am I?” She turned 
a pair of questioning eyes full upon her grandfather’s 
face. 

Draque was silent for a spell ; he had something to 
say to that poor, hopeful child, and was trying to get 
it in shape, but her piteous sobs scattered all. “There, 
Ruth, there,” said Draque, “don’t do that, you’ll not 
have to work like that man.” 

“I’m not crying for myself; I’m not sorry for my- 
self,” moaned Ruth, as she pointed to her brother’s 
empty bed. 

Draque consoled her the best he could, and sat by 
her bed listening to her sighs that came at regular 
intervals, long after she had fallen asleep, as if the 
heart ached on regardless of the mind that was now 
oblivious to every woe. 

When morning came Draque made no further ado 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


393 


about Ike’s disappearance than to see Jabez and ask 
if he was there. Both questions being answered 
in the negative, Draque hurried back. Ike was missed 
by the good neighbors, and it soon became generally 
understood he was not there; but that they could do 
anything in the case that would help either Draque or 
Ike, nothing ever prompted them to consider. Had 
the widow Langon’sson, who several times acted queer 
and was thought not altogether right, wandered away 
from home, every neighbor in the township would 
scour the country until he was found and placed where 
he would neither harm nor be harmed. 

But Ike was looked upon as a man above the average 
man in intelligence; that he should be allowed to go 
where he pleased and do what he pleased no one 
questioned ; not even his old father, after all he had 
seen and heard, thought him unable to take care of 
himself as well as other men, if he only would. The 
widow Langon’s son was harmless, but for fear that 
mood might pass off some day and leave him in a mur- 
dering mood, he was looked after. In a locality where 
there maybe but one insane man, as the people in 
general understand the word, there are one hundred 
who get drunk ; and all the while getting drunk does 
not mean that the man who succumbs drinks five glasses, 
while the man always right-side up, drinks but two; 
it may be right the reverse, just as one man ruins his 
stomach and suffers from dyspepsia, eating pretty 
much the same food that piles fat on another until he 
shuffles off from fatty degeneration. 

Constant familiarity with those suffering from Ike’s 
affliction, render blind alike the voters at large, the 
judge on the bench, and the jury in the box. Could 
they but transplant themselves to a country where the 
inhabitants were free from the physical and mental 


394 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


condition they call crime, where the government ex- 
isted in a healthy state and the people lived independent 
of the traffic that demands a yearly holocaust greater 
than the greatest Roman tyrant ever exacted before 
Christianity held sway in Rome, they could see so 
clearly the true position from afar, that they would unite 
as one man to save the victim and destroy the cause. 

When Draque returned to the house he could not alto- 
gether banish thoughts of Ike, though he had resolved 
to do so. The uncertainty of his whereabouts troubled 
him more than he was willing it should. He might be 
wandering about the country, but Draque thought it 
more probable he went to the city ; his thoughts shaped 
themselves into words, and he said : 

“Wherever he may be. I’ll let him go and take 
care of the little cripple in the house. I’ve struggled 
long enough with him, and if I had the will now 
I haven’t the strength. He’s surely old enough and 
has seen enough of the world to take care of himself, 
and I’ll never make another attempt.’’ 

Peggy was more upset over Ike’s disappearance than 
anyone else. She could not fold her hands and be 
quiet, and Meg’s children crying out for justice; their 
mother in an early grave, and their father worse than 
dead, though as good a man at heart as ever lived. 
Jabez had long before foreseen they might be prepared 
for anything. Draque had hoped and tried, but he 
now felt that striving to save Ike was no longer a 
virtue when the children must be neglected did he 
do so. 

During the time that had elapsed since Ike’s disap- 
pearance, Peggy listened to what both men thought 
of the occurrence, without being convinced it was her 
place to not say a word. 

“I don’t see much that you can do, Peggy,” said 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


395 


Jabez, one evening as they sat alone. “Whether it’s 
wholly our place or not, we men have it altogether in 
our power to make laws right and wrong. It’s plain 
some of them are wrong, and the pity is, you have to 
suffer for it. ’ ’ 

Peggy brushed away at her best bonnet, evidently 
intent upon doing something, and half frightened J abez 
as she tied the knot under her chin, preparatory to 
going out. Jabez drew down the corners of his mouth, 
and asked, “You are not starting off, too, are you 
Peggy? It’s enough for Ike to do that.’’ 

As Peggy hunted around for the umbrella, she 
said, “I’m not going to keep my tongue still. If I can’t 
help to vote those whisky laws put, I’ll make a racket 
somehow. ’’ 

“I can’t think Peggy that it’s wise to start off that 
way, without any plans,’’ said Jabez. “Tell me, what 
could you do now if you were outside.’’ 

“I’d start all the women in the country on the 
rampage. I’d smash the barrels and let the stuff run 
out. I’d do anything within bounds, ’’ said Peggy, very 
much excited. 

Jabez shook his head at her idea of within bounds, 
but saw she was determined, and knew too well what 
that meant to try to dissuade. Klomp came in as 
Peggy was about to step out. Through courtesy she 
turned back, and laid off her bonnet. 

“You’re back, I see,’’ said Klomp, looking at the 
bonnet she had placed on the table. Peggy made no 
reply, but Jabez said: 

“Peggy felt like breaking in the walls of a couple of 
saloons, and didn’t care to go bareheaded; that ac- 
counts for the bonnet being there. ’ ’ 

“Put on your bonnet and I’ll help you,’’ said Klomp, 
turning to Peggy. 


396 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


“However sore the question when a man sees no 
immediate way of doing the good he would do, he 
might as well laugh as cry, isn’t that so Klomp?” 
asked Jabez, who then continued: “A few of us have 
been some time agitating this whisky question, but it 
will be a few years yet before our hopes are realized ; 
it’s the way all revolutions come about, we must sub- 
mit.” 

“Then you don’t think the women could help much 
hammering at the barrels,” said Klomp, “and there’s 
where you and I differ. We often differed before, and 
you were always right, but I’ll be bound this is the 
time you’re wrong; if the women would turn out they, 
could do more than you think. This thing of sticking 
to one way, when it doesn’t work, is played out.” 

“I don’t differ with you a bit this time,” said Jabez, 
“but men at large have never given women the credit 
of being able to do much, and Peggy feels like resent- 
ing the insult this minute. All I objected to was too 
great haste.” 

“I know they say women never stick to the 
point,” said Klomp, laughing, “but for all that they’d 
do good work in the way we’re endeavoring to work 
now if they only got started. ’ ’ 

“Better work is done sometimes by laying down the 
implement that’s all point, than by staying always by 
it,” said Jabez, “and women can bring a dozen trifling 
little points to bear upon a thing in such a way that 
they’ll have more effect than the one strong one. We 
can prove all this right here, Klomp, just as we proved 
other things awhile ago, by means of the crowbar, and 
the like.” 

Peggy now looked more satisfied, and attentively 
listened while Jabez continued: 

“For instance, a sharp ax is a very savage looking 


ISAAC draque, the buckeye. 397 

weapon in the hands of a strong man, and you’d be 
likely to conclude where that point couldn’t force its 
way nothing could. But we’ve tried it, and know 
what we’re talking about when we say, a saw with 
fifty or a hundred insignificant looking little points 
will penetrate in a way the solid one pointed thing never 
would. ’ ’ 

“That’s it,” said Klomp, turning to Peggy. “There’s 
more ways of killing a calf than cutting his head off. 
We’ll try a good many ways to bring the people to see 
where their votes should be cast. Let everyone take 
a hand in it, men and women. I’d advise you, Peggy, 
being as you can’t vote, to go your own way about it, 
just as it appears best to yourself; whether it’s stand- 
ing outside the saloon door, and making wry faces at 
every man that dares go in, or talking to the saloon- 
keeper through the key-hole, shaming him for doing 
the devil’s work, even though that work enables him 
to provide for his family better than you or I were able 
to provide for ours. ’ ’ 

He turned around to see how Jabez was taking it, 
and said ; ‘ ‘ Let the women make a racket of some kind, 
and they’ll set more men thinking seriously about the 
cursed traffic in six months than Jake could in twice 
the time.” Peggy had gotten over her haste, and 
sat, with the hands that were seldom idle quietly 
folded. She heaved a deep sigh, and appeared to 
find in it relief, then she said: “I’ll not venture out 
tonight, but I’ll think the matter over till morning, 
and then nothing will keep me back. I’ll stir the 
women younger than myself to arms, and I’ll follow 
them with encouragement as they proceed.” She 
wept aloud as she said: “I can’t bear to go over to 
Draque ’s any more to see my own grandchildren. I’d 
take them, but Draque won’t give them up.” 


398 ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 

“Draque has no choice, Peggy,” said Jabez. “He 
couldn’t give them up if it was his wish. Ruth 
wouldn’t live six months away from that grandfather, 
and her sister has to stay with her. Ruth’s gone as 
soon as anything comes to take Draque. ’ ’ 

“Draque’s not going soon,” said Klomp; “he’s wiry, 
and likely to live longer than those that look stronger. 

“It would have been the happy day for us all,” said 
Peggy, who had been in deep meditation since she had 
dried her tears, “if you drummed Hiram Blank out of 
the place instead of giving him the welcome you 
did.” 

“Yes,” said Klomp, “or kept away from him until he 
was brought to understand that if he wanted to live 
here he’d have to pitch in and work like the rest of 
us. ” 

“It’s no use, Klomp, it’s no use,” said Jabez, “the 
qualified American citizen, if he’s a square man, is 
forced to take the blame on himself; there’s where the 
blame rests. There’s no use trying to shuffle it upon 
the saloon-keeper ; he has the same right to sell what 
he sells the slave-holder had to sell his slaves. ’ ’ 

“Well,” said Klomp, as he moved to go, “with 
Jake working as hard as he is, and Peggy going to 
start out in the morning, the end is not too far off for 
all of us to see, I hope. ” 


CHAPTER' XXXVII. 

After Ike parted with Jacob Klomp he wandered 
about for many days and found friends. Far into the 
night on the last of those days he found a bed in a hay- 
mow, a great distance from town. 

The warm rays of the morning sun, now high, 
shone through a pigeon hole full upon his face, and 
blinded his opening eyes ; it also brought him some 
cheer, though of the melancholy kind. He never 
more saw visions of a perfect, happy future ; whenever 
a sunbeam crossed his path, it was one that put him 
in a reflective mood, and sent him back to the time 
when his spirit was so buoyant he thought nothing too 
difficult to accomplish. He rubbed his eyes, looked 
around, and was satisfied his bed was a hay-mow, but 
how he got there did not appear to him so clear. He 
drew himself up some, and rested his cheek upon his 
hand, while he steadied his elbow on a cross-piece of 
timber, and looked out the pigeon hole. It was evi- 
dent he was yet at a loss to know where he was, or 
how he got there. He remained for some time in that 
position, and in deep study. At last his eyes bright- 
ened, evidently with pleasure, and he drew close as 
possible to the pigeon hole to survey the whole scene ; 
the survey was satisfactory. He knew the turn in the 
road before him better than he knew the old book he 
first laid eyes upon in the law office. He was far out of 
town, and the road he looked at the one he had been so 
familiar with in stage-coach times. He pictured to 
himself the coach, moving along at the usual gait, and 
himself and the magnetic stranger inside ; the stranger 

399 


400 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


whose soul was so on fire with — no slavery, that he 
needed but few words to kindle in the magnificent 
youth beside him the same fire. Ike watched the coach 
for a half hour or so, as surely as if it was really there; 
his elbow tired sooner than his imagination, and slipped 
off the piece of timber it was resting on. For the 
first time since he awoke he realized the picture before 
him was of the past, and the present was too horrible 
for him to endure. He threw himself over the beam, 
and came down the ladder. Trembling and unsteady 
he walked along the road, every inch of him affected 
by the continual use of alcohol, moderate for years, 
until the effects produced by moderation demanded 
what the world calls too much, to stimulate the system 
into anything like a living condition that was not con- 
tinual suffering. His slow movements along the road 
would lead an observer to believe his walk was either 
aimless or meditative. No tramp had ever graced 
Ohio’s thoroughfares with his presence in the days 
when Ike was accustomed to travel that road in so 
proud and independent a way, so conscious of his 
power, and so charmed with all the beauties the Great 
Creator had thrown in his way. 

But it was different now ; the civil war was respon- 
sible for the peregrinations of many called tramps. As 
the matrons looked out of the farm houses they thought 
he might be one, and the farmer, as he looked up from 
his work, or crossed the field, turned upon him a sus- 
picious eye. But Ike was oblivious to their looks, and 
careless about their opinions. Rural scenes that first 
charmed his young soul had not lost all their charm. 
He looked at divers things that grew by the wayside, 
regardless of eyes that were upon him, so that medita- 
■ tive might be pronounced his mood. He was slowly 
lessening the road between himself and his father’s 


ISAAC f)RAQtJE, tHE BUCKEVE. 401 

home. Should he return as the Prodigal had and try 
again to lift the burden of supporting his children 
from his old father? Simultaneous with the thought, 
he wheeled around, and said: 

“In all my life I never determined to accomplish 
anything and failed, but this; failure has been so 
frequent and impossible to avoid, that I am determined 
to never make another attempt, where my father will 
see the attempt come to naught as he has so often. 
I cannot say I have no wish to be exactly what my 
father would have me, but I do know that so far it has 
not been in my power. ” 

Ninety-nine men out of every one hundred, yea, every 
man in the country save two or three, would lay it 
down as fact had they seen and talked with him that 
morning, that he was as truly a responsible agent as 
they were, and in their eyes, did he do anything the 
man called drunkard at almost any time is likely to do, 
he would be as responsible as if he had never been 
taught and had not lived up to the teaching that mod- 
erate drinking harms no one. Such being the prevail- 
ing belief whether the person so believing was in favor 
of saloons or not. The ups and downs of a man’s 
life when disabled from alcoholic drink somewhat 
resembles a fever patient, and physicians have learned 
that temperature rises and falls without internal or 
external provocation, outside of that which exists in 
the disease itself. But fevers are seldom of prolonged 
duration; they sweep at intervals over countries or 
parts of a country, and the devastation left in their 
track set observing men working to find out the true 
state, both as regards cause and effect, while the dis- 
ease that has so familiarly grown, and is not restricted 
to any country or part of a country, has heretofore 

claimed but little of their attention. 

26 


402 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


Why or wherefore Ike’s breath came harder now 
than it had since he found a bed on the hay-mow, may 
remain for the physician of the future to solve; but 
such is surely the case. Like the fever patient visited 
by the physician in the morning, and whose tempera- 
ture is almost normal, when visited again in the 
evening is found in a raging fever, for no reason but 
that the fever is in his system. So Ike’s steps were 
unsteady; he breathed with difficulty, and mental 
vision such as clearly discerns, is becoming clouded, 
where awhile before he was a fair specimen of a rea- 
sonable man. 

The spirit of enterprise was far from dead in Ike’s 
native state. A branch from the great railroad was 
being built to connect with some other road. Down 
in the gulley a shanty had been built to accommodate 
the laborer, the chief accommodation being a supply 
of the ardent. Ike crossed the fence and proceeded 
toward the gulley ; having arrived there an obstacle 
loomed up in the shape of no funds. It was not the 
time of day favorable to friend-finding, for those who 
patronized the place were on the road. He pleaded 
eloquently for a drink, but the ears into which he 
poured his suffering appeals were always deaf to every 
demand not accompanied with money, and the pos- 
sessor of those ears had no intention of making an 
exception here. 

Ike felt barely able to stand, and dropped on the 
wooden bench against the wall, more like an inert 
body than one animated with life. His proud spirit 
sank in a way very few were capable of understand- 
ing ; for the public took no note of his condition, and 
did he dare to step over the threshold that led to 
another drunk, the act was plainly and damnably delib- 
erate. No one understood the situation better than 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 403 

himself, save Jacob Klomp. The objects before him 
began to reel, and his temples felt as if flying apart, 
while the words of Jacob Klomp rang in his ears: 
“Toward every other class of sufferers we are inclined 
to be charitable; hospitals are built and nurses are 
trained. The sufferer from alcohol alone is a crim- 
inal.” 

Ike could stand it no longer ; he arose to his feet, 
made his way back of the board used as a counter, 
and helped himself. The astonished owner of^ the 
draught looked at him with eyes twice their natural 
size, and rushed to save his drug, but he was too late 
to save all. Ike had secured enough to steady his 
nerves and take the something from his eyes that made 
single things look double, and things that were sta- 
tionary from apparent whirling around. 

The keeper of the little shanty made no attempt to 
throw Ike out. He was like the shanty, small, while 
Ike was large, and though broken down looking, his 
strength could hardly be gauged with accuracy, and 
there were no men but the two within gun-shot of 
the place. He may have had a motive for being 
gentle, but when a man refrains from doing an evil 
deed, people are not inclined to question motive. To 
look at the good in everyone’s actions is one of the best 
traits of character; that he did not put him out is 
suflicient. Ike was hungry, but in no hurry. He was 
an adept at fasting, and sat down to talk with the 
man, who still showed signs of being taken by sur- 
prise. He never told his history or how he happened 
to take his first drink to the man before him, or any- 
one. He looked around the place with the eye of 
a philosopher, and asked, “How business stood.” 

“It’s quiet during the day, but at night it’s lively,” 
was the answer received. 


404 


Isaac: Idraque, tHE buck£V£. 


“I suppose,” said Ike, thoughtfully, “forty years or 
so have not diminished the interest people take in the 
saloon. ’ ’ 

“That it’s steadily on the increase is my experience, 
and it’s not a bad business, either, I can tell you, once 
a man gets fairly started, ’ ’ said the man addressed, 
gleefully rubbing his hands. 

“It’s a business where the proceeds and results seem 
to make extraordinary efforts to see which will come 
out first,” said Ike, as he looked at the financially satis- 
fied man before him, at the same time contemplating 
in himself a sad picture of results. 

The man addressed thought of nothing but the 
financial side of the question. He knew well what pro- 
ceeds meant, but results was a word that had not been 
entered in his vocabulary. When Ike said, “I am not 
in favor of the traffic, ’ ’ he was sure it meant some- 
thing antagonistic, and bristled up as he looked at a 
half-empty bottle, and said, “I should say you 
weren’t. ” 

“Whatever my faults or misfortunes are, as observers 
may feel pleased to call them, I stand condemned,” 
said Ike, “but I have enough of the magnanimous yet 
left in my heart to wish to save the thousands upon 
thousands who are today paving their way to similar 
fate.” 

The man behind the counter had no more use for 
Ike. He carefully put some loose bottles under lock, 
piled the drinking glasses and took them back so they 
would not be a standing temptation to try a barrel, 
and showed in several other ways he had more to do than 
talk. Ike started out in search of the road he had left, 
also for a meal which would answer for breakfast, 
dinner, and supper of the night before. He sat 
dejected on a boulder by the wayside to think of Jacob 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 


4o5 


Klomp, because the boulder reminded him of one 
occupied by himself and Jacob a long time before, 
and also reminded him of the irrevocable fate that 
separated them, not in feelings of individual friendship 
and esteem, but in the diversity of their paths since 
boys, and how cruelly he had been decoyed. 

While Ike had been thus wandering about, Draque 
let the farm on shares, and managed the best he could 
for the few of the Draque family left. 

rose up to fight the saloon-keepers as she had 
vowed she would. Whenever Jabez was questioned 
concerning Peggy’s movements he solemnly inclined 
his head, and said: “1 don’t blame her for trying to do 
something. Pegg 3 ^’s way is good as far as it goes, and 
Abel Beech is a well-meaning man, too I am sure 
every agitation concerning the traffic will help to put 
people thinking right. They will be brought to see 
yet that Jacob Klomp is the man on the right track.” 

The dew of another night settled noiselessly upon 
leaf and blade, and moistened from head to foot the 
form of a homeless wanderer, stretched upon the sod 
he was born to inherit. The wanderer who the day 
before had resolved to never place his foot upon that 
sod again. It is probable he had no thought or knowl- 
edge of where he was going, but hit upon the familiar 
path and journeyed on. He did not stop until he 
crossed the line-fence, where he laid down to rest in 
his father’s pasture, not far from the green graves of 
his mother and Bill and Amanda, of Meg and his hand- 
some boys, and there viewing the scenes of his child- 
hood, where there was nothing but. peace and heaven 
and love, save the destroyer that came in the shape of 
stimulants, and had been so long an agreeable, un- 
questionable companion, his life went out. 

Upon the dead body nature smiled as sweetly as 


4o6 ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 

ever it had upon the living boy. The air was laden 
with balm, and there was melody in every sound. 
Not until he who was the cause of the ruin of that 
splendid physical and intellectual machine came upon 
the spot, was there anything that would intimate to 
the observer such a word as disgrace. Draque’s agony 
when he came across the body of his dead Ike was 
painful to witness. His lamentations were not those 
of a man leaving his dead with God, as he had resign- 
edly left so many since Amanda went. 

It was not that Ike died unattended and alone, with- 
out human aid or sympathy. Bill had been picked up 
on another field, and his gaping wounds told a sad tale 
to the father’s heart of comforts that might have been 
administered in the last dread hour and were not. 
Yet how bravely he endured all because Bill was 
a hero; he was called upon to give his life for his 
country, and his death was honorable. But Ike had 
flung his life away for drink ; he had disgraced him- 
self and his father’s family beyond reparation. The 
proud family, whose pride was not based upon worldly 
possessions, but upon honor and right living, had, in 
Draque’s estimation, received a death blow, for 
death lets no man back to redeem what is lost, and 
Ike is gone. 

Not many months passed, and the first settlers had 
all dropped off but Draque. In the early morning 
twilight could be seen a man, stepping slowly across 
the north lot, surely living in the past ; there was no 
future for him any more on earth, even Ruth had 
gone. There was barely a perceptible stoop in his 
lithe, wiry frame, and a tear could be seen coursing 
slowly down the cheek of the old man, inured to 


ISAAC DRAQUE, THE BUCKEYE. 407 

hardship from babyhood ; not the impulsive tear that 
gushes from the eye, but the tear shed by one long 
accustomed to conquer, that comes from the very 
depths of a breaking heart, and that he would fain be 
strong enough to hide. 

That the world would soon be no more forever for 
him and his was not the burden he bore, but that Ike 
was a criminal, and died in disgrace. The voice of 
truth gone forth proclaiming him innocent as his fellow- 
man, who indulging in the good things of life, piles fat 
about his heart until he can breathe no more, Draque 
will never hear. 


THE END, 


ADVANCE ’’LIST OF 

)N^cw Publications for 1898 

SOCIAL TRAGEDIES. 

By S. T. Satterthwaite, M. D. 

A Fascinating Story Dealing with the Problems of Modern Life. 
Handsomely bound in art linen, 12mo $1.00 

THREE WOMEN. 

By Ella Wheeler Wilcox. 

A Marvelous Narrative of Thrilling Interest. 


Fine silk cloth, Timo $1.00 

Art binding, gold top, presentation edition, 12mo 1.50 


THE GREAT SEVEN, THE GREATER NINE. 

By John H. Flood, Jr. 

A Prophetic Description of America in the Twentieth Century. 
Extra silk cloth, 12mo $1.00 

RIMES TO BE READ. 

By J. Edmund V. Cooke. 

A Volume of Delightful Character Sketches. 

Extra silk cloth, gold top, 12mo $1.00 

GUESS OR, JESS AND ARAMINTHA. 

By Cousin Sary. 

The Amusing Trip of a Yankee Farmer and his Wife. 

Extra silk cloth, 12mo $1.00 


POEMS. 

By Ida Celia Whittier. 

A Dainty Volume of Poems by a Gifted Writer. 

Extra silk cloth $1.00 

For Sale at AH Book Stores. 


W. B. CONKEY COMPANY, 

Publishers and 

General Book Manufacturers, CHICAGO, ILL. 









•C ^ 






A 


t:bc 


Cbotnas JMatbcw 


'0 


5 

Buckeye (( 

5) 


0 


u 


Chicago— JS^cw yorh 

W. B. CONKEY COMPf^NY 

o 

Franklin Serles-Vol. 5, No. 3, February, 1898. Monthly— $6.00 per year. 
Entered at llie (’hicago Post-Office as second-class matter. 


I 

I 



/ 

J 

/ 


/ 

/ 


▼ 


I. it Ag ’1 2 

O 


. t 

\ 


f 0 






■AX 


• • .' 


w 


I'T^r' ■'• rr-flTT^'"" 

U • '* ^1 k M 

-• ^ ^ ' l» 


I 4 



KL- . 1 # ' . V. .• ^ 


T 







« ♦ . 



r. 



'IS 

■f • ■ "* 


.V .^:c*L" " . 


^ v^F- 7 * 

' A' -v*' 17 * 
1" • 



^ Tir ' 




. r' I •*.•. * . > 


•. -<•: 


'•$% ' ' 


7 : : ■.■ }.p' 7. ;^,i' •,. 






' i. . ^^-4 


»i *■ 


,* p n ■ .• • -• >>• » 


* * f / ' V • ' . 



, • L 

- . • r\ I 41*. » 



-./ !.» -v 


jt /. 




• • 


^v.■^ 


■ » 


• -..* •-’ ■•■- -.'.I*'. , ■ 'i, 

i» ■■'<» • . *■• . ' •* ' .'y: - .■• 

V,*,/ 




' 4 - V '-7 ' ■ 


I . 



* , t , f. ' X 

r ‘ >: * 


< t 





I . I 


j» . <1 < 


.. .' 7 ^, *:. 





■ ■'#*' 


, * 


* V 


« ^ 




t 




I-' 









?•* .. 


« ► 


•y^ 


7.^ 




•c : 




.4 


’iv. ■'V-' Ft 


». *' t l/^>" 1 ^*. : ■ - ' B. -4 • -«ir 

?i^il*.' v “7 .,: ; ■■ 




»n 



P'^' -.J^'-.'^Ff ‘ 

R ;: ... ■■' 

• . •• 'V'* -- - 


♦’’ F* 

i / *'V * ■' 


i 


rt < 





V I 


' * *w * n ’ *» • ,• j 

■ . ' ■ •> 7 '' 'r 'i 

‘ > rs^r^ ' ' . -• 


< 


« • 




1 ** '.'/r 



•i 


■■ >1 Zh^XAF^ 

r . 0 ^' 

\ ' *^1 ■ ■•• • « ■ ’ • , 

^ . . . * * 4 . 1 Jk 


c ' r. 

« ^ t 

xy 


• ' V 


'■h' 


) •• » 




‘ lr-' 


/r »' 


■ >:• 

‘ . ■ 


'■» 

4'<^ 


i/'t 


mm.. '^.^ ■■ 

■ ■ 


r 'i ■ 0 


; • ^'7 


WB (j J . « 





\ 


/ 


'»* 




> • t 4 


-■-> 



H- *■■•■ 

■ 




r 


•“IJ/ 

i 




* • v -i 

' , I', *• 


• 


^ > .j. , 


« 


4 . 


\ La 

/ r 


ir> '< 




I 




• 5 , .' ■ ' * • * ' 4 

i • , 


' • • 


. f* 

• 4 " 

V 




%\ 




, • * 



' 

V ;/ t V. ,, 

* • X 


''•• 4 ' 

» •» w 


• • 


• i 


\ • 


V 

#• 




' • » 


\ 

• I- 


» « 








.' *. 


K* ‘ “• 

■•■. . . ■ 7 ?; . • ■»:■ .'*^tt; 






Vw^ry^F^,> 




4 • > 


» 

o. 





t.- 

< t 








* * 


r ■ 

.^T .* 









> " 


f- 



^ C -. /.V, ' ; ,»'■ ^’' 4 

i ■ ■ ' -v-:^ 4 ^ ^ M \ 




tv^ •. 





7^' 


i’ .''■» » , ‘ v o*' • • ^ .• ■ “ , 

'^.., v-. V , 

|'.'3tr'i .t* ■^".. 


^ ‘ ;A ,jA?. * ' . v y»/ , 

f*. ■* •* .f ' '.• iJ'., *•_. 

' TO-. ■■■ , V. .a, 

'--l-. V; Kj'-:.:-' ' - ■ .■ ■&.'■; 


. ff 

i 




r% 

V 


V z' '.- =i' 

;*f . . ; .. '• •.-“T*- 




A li 


■’ -iv ','*■• 


*>ft; ..' - . / rf , « 

J 5. 

■yy 

' ' >•■ 

r* 


ft 

- * -JM 

.1'^ ' 

1 

» 'v .W ■ 

»■> • 


^ ‘ k I V i . »••. 


^i>'\ 

f. 


» i A 

A • 


::V7 


>-i ^ ' 


• , 
p> 

•* ■ • 





■f; 


• > , 


K • 


■'®r 


1 ?? 

V 

> «. 


■ir^; 
■ . .'i^' 


■■ 


Ai A- 




f\ 7 

. J 

"f ^ 




A ^ . 


>■- - ■ 

‘ 


' 


".W/* 

r*^ V 





I %•- 
V 


i 

. . '*>■ *- ■ ' V 




.N 


■ tC' . r-- 1 •'ll ? . « ’ « 




v* -• 


I’ ‘ * 
♦.I 

‘.'X • 


•;w 







^y* * 

r •' I 




r r 
'. rf. 


. . • .’ r. 

•-» . •- 


A c* 


> ') 


■'^ u 


* _ 


( 

I 

* k 


« 


*..• 







V «v., • /’: •' 


3.* A' f 

^ J • ? ’V f 

. • ■•i'V. 


•> , 

' r 

. r . -' ‘ 



I 


\ir\ 



r>- * . 


( 


, » •< * > 





•* ' 




• 


•.*. 


* " 
« * ' 


<4r 




-« Li 




• t -% 

■i?.- -m 


« A ' 


- '‘‘zi^"-' 

^ • ' i T'»-. .• ^ .* 


ta/ 'j 


« • • 

< 

I 


< 

4 . 


k i ‘ 

. ft 




t 




/ -. ’ ♦ : ^ S 






I ■• 




V, 


i"v. 


. ^ . 


.. ' . . V 



_ _ _ 

'•2 • 

* V. 

■'#* ^’' 

I • • 

f I . ' 

r- ^• 


*. I 


« 

»ft 


• - 


• • 
t • 








p-' 

.V 


« . >5:^ 


:A& 


^•V 


A . i - ♦.- 

4_- *. 

I 


• vj 


♦ *>iA 


. ; ■■■€■ 



I . 


B*. ' .?. ■' ‘ 

M* < A V * • » 

•'<rv, 

_.'i' .- '* r 


1 v 
vi» 




^■'V-:^/:i ■- 


'• ■'w* 


I • 
» • 

< 







